The Phoenix In The Flames
by mockinjay771995
Summary: He never liked fire, it was dangerous and uncontrollable. But she was different. The only thing uncontrollable was the speed he feel for her. The only thing dangerous was that he suddenly wasn't scared of being burned. She was fire, and the last thing he wanted to do was extinguish the fire she had managed to spark in him.
1. Chapter 1

Riley's POV

We were all gathered around the table, trying to stomach the slightly tasteless oatmeal. It had been about two months since the events of New Years Eve, and we had all agreed to stay friends. What we already had was much too precious to risk for something so tentative as a middle-school relationship. And we had gone, for the most part, back to normal. There were still times of heavy awkwardness when anyone brought up New Years or what happened in Texas, but other than that we were the best of friends...That's all.

But wasn't normal was my dad entering the kitchen groaning and looking like he was really dreading something. "What's wrong, Dad?" I asked, startled by his lack of enthusiasm. His only response was to let out another groan and bury his head in his hands. We all turned to my mom for an explanation. She simply rolled her eyes at her husband.

"The transfer student's supposed to be coming to your school today, and your father's not exactly excited."

"Why not?" This time my dad answered, his voice slightly muffled behind his hands. "She's part of this new 'Educational Forgiveness' program. She was expelled from her old school and she's being sent to JQA as a second chance." Lucas looked confused. "What are you worried about, it's pretty much what happened to me. And I think it worked alright. People change people right?" Dad finally dropped his hands and sighed. "She's didn't get kicked out for fighting. She got kicked out for almost setting the school on fire! I feel like there's a difference."

"I feel like this is going against quite a few of your life lessons, Mr. Matthews." Maya smirked.

"I'm not your teacher at home. I don't have to enforce these life lessons until eight a.m." I couldn't help but think that seemed a little hypocritical, but I laughed with the others all the same. Noting the time Maya, Lucas, Farkle and I left my apartment and heading towards the subway station and what promised to be an interesting day at school.

It was while we were boarding the subway train to JQA when Maya jokingly wondered if we'd meet the new kid on the subway like we had first met Lucas. I was excited at the possibility but Farkle said how unlikely that was due to the sheer number of subway trains in New York not to mention the almost infinite combinations of different trains the new student could take to get to school.

"That's if she's going to take the subway at all." He added as an afterthought.

Looking back I realize that we did see her on the subway, but we didn't really take any notice of her. I vaguely remember that she had bumped into Lucas when she had boarded the train at one of its last stops before where we got off. It was an everyday occurance being knocked into by people getting on and off the train. If the girl hadn't ended up being part of our class, I probably wouldn't have ever thought of her again. But I do remember this, even though I had seen her for what was probably a half second. She didn't look like an arsonist.

 **Lucas' POV**

History was the same as it always was. Mr. Matthews stood at the front of the room trying to start his lesson from a single word written on the blackboard.

 _ **Empathy**_

"Something that we often forget while studying history is the basic fact that these people we learn about were still human. Sometimes we're so caught up in the facts and studying what we think the teacher will put on the test that we forget why we study history. Because the people that made past mistakes and achieved past glories were once everyday people, just like you and me. History never fails to show us that when you began to stop seeing people as other human beings who have souls, dreams, and loved ones just like you do, bad things happen. And history also shows us that when you step into the shoes of someone else and see how they see the world, your outlook on everything can change." There was a knock on the door, causing Mr. Matthews to jump. He tried to mask his pure terror, but most the class saw right throw his act. And the majority of the class looked curiously at the door to see what had our teacher so scared. I don't think any of us, including Riley, Maya, Farkle, and me, were expecting the girl that walked slowly through the door. She was fairly tall, and had long wavy reddish-brown hair, even from my seat in the middle of the classroom I could see the strange and striking green/gray of her eyes. She was dressed casually, wearing a white **Shinedown** shirt, torn jeans, and beat up sneakers. She looked so...normal. I found it hard to believe that she was the girl from the forgiveness program.

Mr. Matthews seemed to recover from his own shock. "Um...you must be..." He checked a paper on his desk. "Amaryllis Stevens?" A few soft giggles cut through the silence at the sound of her name. Amaryllis trained her eyes on the ground. "Amy." She corrected softly. Not raising her eyes from the floor.

"Right...well, Amy...you can take a seat." Mr. Matthews told her hesitantly. She took a seat at the very back of the classroom and Mr. Matthews recovered enough to go on with the lesson. "Now empathy is important throughout history, especially while studying a person whom we'd rather forget. It's easy to write these people off as being just plain evil, but you have to consider the time period, the ideals of people in that time, and their situation. Empathy reminds us all what we're truly capable of...both the good and bad." He paused here for minute, looking around at us all. "You guys are going to do a project. I want you to partner up with someone and I want you to learn as much as you can about them. I want you to humanize your partner, I want you see them as the complex human being we all are. And I want you to do a presentation on what you've found out. And remember while empathizing with others, you discover parts of yourself. And here's the catch." He added as he watched several people already moving to pair up. "I want you to be with someone you've never been partnered up with before. The point of the project is to learn things you didn't already know, and to understand people you don't normally interact with."

People stood up, moved around the room, and chose partners, a bit reluctantly. I looked around the room. _Someone I'd never been partnered with..._

I finally I saw her, still sitting, as though trying to stay invisible in the back of the room. I went over to where she was and sat down at the desk next to her. "Hey." I started lamely.

"Hi." She replied tonelessly, sketching aimlessly in her notebook. "I'm Lucas." I continued.

"I'm Amaryllis." Still in that flat, emotionless voice. "Like the flower?" I asked, still trying to make conversation. She looked at me for the first time. Her eyes were even more intense up close, I shifted uncomfortably as she continued to stare at me. "Yeah," She said finally, going back to her drawing. "My mom had a thing for Amaryllises, lilies too." Her voice changed at this simple statement, it became slightly lighter, as though the words were easier to make out.

I wasn't sure what to ask after that, she seemed like she didn't want to answer any of these questions and she wasn't asking any of her own. Until, "The teacher's looking at me, isn't he?" Startled I looked up at Mr. Matthews who was throwing glances at us every few seconds. "No, I don't think he's-" I started but she cut me off with snort of laughter, though her expression told me she thought the situation was anything but funny. "Figures." I heard her mutter as she shoved her notebook into her bag. She turned to face me, and I was a bit intimidated by the look of resentment of her face. But her expression softened, or at least it returned to the stony impassiveness that she was wearing when I sat next to her. For a second she looked like she was going to say something, but then she decided against it, and she dropped her gaze to the floor again.

We sat in silence for the rest of the class. While Amy sat staring at the floorboards, I was looking at her notebook. It had slipped out of her bag when she had knocked it over in her anger. Drawn across the lined paper was a large bird taking flight, it's wingspan taking up half the page. It appeared to be flying away from a tree, a tree engulfed in flames.

 **Okay, so before I continue with this story I want you to know that I have never written anything remotely like this. I usually right mysteries, so please if you have any suggestions feel free to review or PM me.**

 **-Mockingjay**


	2. Chapter 2

Amy's POV

The rest of the day was filled with class after class of awkward introductions, staring teachers, whispering and snickering students, and I counted down every second until the final bell rang. The day was almost exactly as I figured it would be... _almost_.

What I hadn't counted on was the kid from history. Sure he talked to me during class but that was just because he had to. But all through the day he would say hi to me in the halls, he would smile if I walked into a class we happened to have together, he was constantly trying to make conversation. He even invited me to sit at his table with four other kids from history during lunch. I didn't stay long, their cheerful smiles and curious questions made me uncomfortable. Try as I might through the day I couldn't pinpoint the reason for his keen interest in me. By the end of the day I just decided that he must be really serious about his homework.

But I couldn't dwell on the intentions of kids I barely knew, I had much more pressing things on my mind. Immediately after school I walked about four blocks to the nearest elementary school, which also happened to be named John Quincy Addams, someone really needs to think of some new names.

Inside the school was almost overly bright, colorful posters hung along the cream colored walls, and the floors were waxed so thoroughly that they reflected the fluorescent lights above them. I sighed. No matter how much I already hated my new school, it was beyond worth it if Lily and Colin got to go to an elementary school that wasn't nearly run into the ground.

I walked into the secretary's office where a middle-aged woman with bottle blonde hair, hard eyes, and pursed lips sat behind a desk. She didn't smile when I entered, but she watched my every move. I approached the desk with the most polite smile I could muster.

"Is there anyway you could tell Lily and Colin Stevens that their sister is here to get them?"

"Are you a parent or guardian?" She asked sharply, still unsmiling. I suppressed and eye roll. "In a manner of speaking," I replied my own smile fading. "It was arranged that I would be allowed to pick them up everyday." She turned to the phone on the desk, and I distinctly heard her mutter something about 'Those kids'. I leaned against the desk and bit back the words I longed to throw at her.

A few minutes of tense silence later the door of the office was thrown open in an excited rush.

Lily and Colin practically jumped on me, both of them talking very fast, trying to tell me all about their day. I was sheparding them out the door when the secretary interjected almost angrily. "You have to sign them out."

I returned to the desk and took the clipboard she handed to me. _If I can get through the school year without strangling her, it'll be a miracle._ I thought as I signed mine and my siblings names.

The second we were out of the school they both began to talk again. I held up a hand to quiet them, not bothering to hide my smile. At least they had a good day. "Lily first." I said. "She's the youngest."

Lily instantly rushed into a long winded tale of how the teacher was so much nicer, and how the kids had played with her and how she had already made so many friends. I was grateful that Lily was still so young, only eight years old, third-graders were a lot less judgemental. But it was hard to dislike Lily anyway. She was small for her age, with long curly reddish hair like our mother's, and she had deep brown eyes just like hers. She was friendly and creative, and she loved everyone, she really did. She was just so innocent. She was in every way, just like my mom. Oblivious to the world, lost in her own, an optimist, and a dreamer.

Colin, on the other hand, was more like me. Realistic, maybe a bit too much for being just ten years old. My mom says it's because he spends too much time with me, in response I would always ask, 'Well who else is there?', she never has an answer. It's true sometimes I admit, it's almost like he forgets he's just a kid, he wants to help out more. But even though I understand where he's coming from probably better than anybody I refused to let him give up the last of his childish ignorance and innocence. He didn't look like my mom either, his hair was darker, and his eyes were blue, and spattering of freckles decorated the bridge of his nose. I assumed he looked like out father, but I couldn't be totally sure.

Colin waited patiently as Lily talked about her day and when she was done he launched into an account of his own.

A comfortable silence fell as we continued walking. I kept a firm hold of both my siblings the entire way through the neighborhood. Now don't get me wrong, Lily, Colin, and I live in a pretty rough part of the city, but even though it was definitely safer at our new schools it was unfamiliar, and I would feel much better once we were home.

Our old and slightly formidable apartment building was located at the outermost edges of queens. As the kids rushed past me and into the building, I eyed an old turquoise station wagon parked in the resident's lot

wearily...Mom's home.

By the time I got to the apartment Lily was already reliving her school day for our mother, she threw me a questioning look over Lily's shoulder when I walked in.

"And when was this school switch set up?" She asked me as I headed for our minuscule kitchen to look for something to make for dinner. I rolled my eyes. "Remember that forgiveness project I told you about? Well I made a deal with them, I'd go along with and say whatever they needed me to say as long as Lily and Colin got to go to a better school too."

She pursed her lips and I had a feeling this conversation was going to be continued later. "Get started on your homework." I told the kids, and I disappeared into the kitchen. Lily and Colin rushed off to their rooms and I started dinner. Mom sat in the livingroom, and for a while I could pretend she wasn't there... _It's better that way._ I couldn't help but think bitterly.

After dinner, while Lily and Colin were watching **Cinderella** (Lily's choice) in the livingroom, Mom approached me in the kitchen while I was doing dishes. She didn't say anything for a minute choosing instead to help with the pans, but then I heard her mumble low to me. "I don't need to tell you I think it was stupid that you took the fall for that boy at school."

"What boy at school?" I asked, pretending I had no idea what she was talking about.

"The one who lit your science room on fire, the one you took the blame for." She replied quietly. "Oh so now you remember." I hissed, washing a plate a bit more aggressively than what was needed. "Remember you getting expelled? Yes!" She shot back. "Nevermind that you could've been arrested. What made you think it was a good idea to say you did it?"

"Because, unlike you, I stay and I protect the people I care about!" I tossed the pate back into the sink and turned to face her, neither of us bothered whispering anymore.

"And what if you had been arrested, huh? Who would've taken care of Colin and Lily?" She yelled.

"I figured you'd have at least enough maternal instinct to at least try to raise your own kids but I see now that was never gonna happen!"

She looked like I just slapped her, and try as I might to squash it, I felt pretty guilty about what I'd just said. "You know everything I do is to protect you." She was whispering again, her voice slightly shakier than before. "Yeah, I know." I mumbled, turning back to the sink. She grabbed my chin and turned my face back towards her, "It scared me half to death, when I found out that you were expelled..." She trailed off then took a deep breath. "Please just try to lay low at this new school alright?" I nodded. But I couldn't help adding a little bitterly, "It'd be easier to lay low if you told me what I'm supposed to be avoiding." She just smiled sadly. "Not, yet when you're-"

"Older and ready." I finished for her. "I know."

"So," She started with the dishes again. I joined her. "You never told me anything about your new school. Any cute guys?"

"Mom." I groaned, nudging her shoulder. She simply laughed.

I remember when I was little that I used to dream about this, having normal conversations with me mom, being a normal girl who doesn't have to be paranoid about some unknown evil in my mother's life. But those dreams ended years ago.

Suddenly Cinderella's voice floated into the kitchen from the TV,

 _ **A dream is a wish your heart makes; when you're fast asleep; In dreams you will lose your heartaches; Whatever you wish for you keep; Have faith in your dreams and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through; No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing a dream that you wish will come true.**_

 _I'm not a princess,_ I told myself firmly. _My wishes won't come true just because I really want them to._ I spirits dropped through the floor when I reminded myself, _your heart stopped dreaming years ago._

 **AN:**

 **Roserucas: The ships will be mainly Lucas x OC with side mentions of Rucas, Lucaya, some Joshaya, and even very little Smarkle.**


	3. Chapter 3

Amy's POV

That night I couldn't sleep. More than once a certain crazy scheme tempted me.

 _No!_ I thought firmly every time I almost had myself convinced. _You've never done it with mom in the house_. _She'd flip._ But even the thought of my mom worried sick didn't appease me. The resentment from our latest argument was still fresh in my mind and I almost wanted to go, just to see how she would react. But the thought of an overly worried mom and how much that would scare Lily and Colin is what really kept me home. At least until about 12:30 in the morning.

Finally tired with tossing and turning with not a single second of sleep in sight, I made my way to the kitchen for a drink.

I walked right by my mom's open bedroom door without a second thought. I took about three more steps towards the kitchen before realization flooded me, and I stopped dead.

I whirled around and shoved the door the rest of the way open on my way in.

Mom's bed was neatly made and the curtains were drawn in front of her window, which was weird, she loved looking at the night sky. I hurried and dug through the drawer of her nightstand.

Car keys, license, wallet, all gone. I searched the entire room for her purse, she would never leave her purse, if that was still here, so was she. But my search was in vain. Her purse was gone, and so was she.

I quietly left her room and closed the door with a soft _click._ For a second I leaned my head against the door frame with a strange heaviness on my chest and my vision suddenly blurry. _How could she just up and leave like that? I mean, sure she's left suddenly before, but she would always say goodbye first. Was our fight that bad?_ For a second I almost regretted saying some of the things I did. But before I could feel properly regretful every thing was drowned out by a sudden and vicious anger. _I didn't say anything that wasn't true._ I thought resentfully, straightening up and wiping my eyes though they were dry now. _If she can't handle that then maybe it's better if she doesn't stick around._

My anger was just starting the ebb away when I went to the fridge for a drink, but it flared up again full force when I saw the note stuck on the refrigerator door.

 **Sorry I had to leave so suddenly, but work called and something really important came up and it couldn't wait. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. If there's a problem use the emergency cells in the drawer.**

 **Love, Mom.**

I pulled the note off the fridge and read it several times. Scowling deeper with each word. "Thanks Mom." I said, sarcasm weighing heavy on every word. "This letter is perfect, so much information, and here I was worried that you wouldn't say where you've gone. This letter is great." I continued reaching a full on rant, even though I knew perfectly well there was absolutely no way she could hear me. "This letter is wonderful. This letter is...it's...bullshit! That's what it is." I crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash.

I finally understood the phrase, 'seeing red'. It seemed everything was suddenly awash in a faint crimson. I wanted to punch a wall, but what good would that do anyone? Suddenly I realized everything keeping me in the apartment was gone. Lily and Colin slept heavy, they wouldn't notice if I left for a few hours. And Mom was off where ever, she would never know. And without another thought after that I suddenly found myself shoving my clothes out of the way of the hole in my closet wall. I dig around in it until I found the plastic bag where I kept all the money I've won. I pulled two hundred out of the bag and I tucked the bills into the inside of my jacket as I threw it on. I shoved my sneakers on and I was out of my bedroom window and climbing the fire escape to the street by the time my brain fully caught up with me.

It suddenly occurred to me as I dropped on the sidewalk what a reckless idea this really was. I've never been less prepared for a fight. I wasn't even dressed for it, I was still wearing the sweatpants I usually wore to bed, I didn't bring the tape I usually wrap around my hands and feet. I brought more money than I should've, and to top it all off I wasn't a week night fighter, I didn't even know who would be there when I showed up.

But my anger still burned hot as molten steel just below the surface and that won out over everything else.

I got to the old warehouse around quarter after one, and the night was already in full swing when I arrived.

At least a dozen crates had been grouped together in the middle of the warehouse's ground floor. The only thing protecting you from the hard metal of the rusty crates was a couple tarps. Old and fraying ropes looped around the rudimentary ring to keep the fighters in and the spectators out, for the most part. I wove around the outer edges of the crowd looking for the one person I knew would be here.

I finally spotted him on the old catwalk running about halfway up the warehouse walls, just under the tall, dirty and mostly broken line of windows.

I quickly made my way to the creaky ladder and I climbed up to the top.

I came and stood next to Derrek Tracy, leaning against the railing, watching the fight below just like he was. We stood there in silence, I watched as the bigger of the two men fighting landed a brutal right hook that left his opponent reeling into the ropes. I winced, I knew that feeling well.

"I wasn't expecting you here." He said casually, taking a long sip from his Jack Daniels bottle. Tracy was a pretty formidable looking guy, but he wasn't bad once you got to know him. Sure he had a heavy addiction to hard liquor and stolen cigarettes, and he happened to kind of run this fighting ring, but he was a friend. I shrugged. "Neither was I." He gave me an appraising look out of the corner of his eye. But his only reply was to take another drink from his bottle. Tracy was only in his early twenties, and he was heavily covered in a lot of prison tattoos, which was weird because as far as I know he's never been to prison, but I've never asked him about it. With dark hair, eyes, and clothes, Tracy didn't look much scarier than most other people that come here regularly, but still you could tell he was in charge. Everyone respected him. After all in a technicality, he is our boss.

"I wanna fight." I told him abruptly after a few more minutes of silence. "And here I was thinking you'd just stopped in for a chat." He said with a smirk.

"I only have a hundred and fifty." I told him. Deciding to keep the other fifty for security money. "Not much." He remarked, as I handed him the money. I stayed quiet. Tracy

knew I had more than one fifty to gamble with, he payed me after all.

"You know the rules, you fight with whoever's paid the same up front." He folded the money into his pocket, his tone suddenly business like. "Double or nothing, I know. So who am I fighting?"

Tracy motioned towards a tall, thickset girl with white blonde hair and very pale skin, she looked to be about my age, leaning casually against the concrete wall at the other side of the room. "Her name's Astrid something. She's new tonight too. I've never seen her fight before. I'll move you guys up next. You shouldn't stay too long anyway." I gave him a grateful smile as I headed for the ladder. "You gonna go make friends with the new girl?" He called after me. "You know that's not my style." I threw over my shoulder with a laugh.

I climbed down the ladder and I joined the crowd excitedly watching the outcome of the brutal match.

The fight was over pretty quick, with the bigger of the two guys winning. The other had to be helped by six spectators out of the ring. I wasn't really surprised, you never did fully recover after a blow into the ropes like that.

And not two minutes later there was Tracy calling for quiet. The crowd hushed and listened intently for the next match. Tracy called me and the girl named Astrid to the ring. He acted as casual as ever, but I saw him as we both climbed under the ropes, he had stood up straight and even put his bottle down. He was interested to see how this would play out.

Tracy might've been watching closely but for the most part no one else was. After all, Astrid and I were new and teenage girls, how vicious could the match really get? But their inattention didn't matter to me, I was here for one reason really. To get rid of the anger still boiling in me, to let it all out and hopeful earn a few bucks doing it.

I heard the bell ring, signaling the start of the match. It was customary for fighters to size one another up before we started swinging, especially fighters who had never went against each other before, Astrid and I were no different.

We circled each other for a minute, Both of us trying to spot the other's ticks and weaknesses. I instantly noticed that she walked with a small limp in her right knee, and she held her left arm slightly cocked at the elbow, an indication that she couldn't fully extend that arm. I had what I needed and apparently so did she, because at that moment she stepped forward and swung at my head with surprising speed. I ducked just in time, and since she was already momentarily off balance I kicked hard at her right knee. She stumbled backwards and I stood up straight, I caught a glimpse of her eyes, cold gray and flooded with a sharp anger.

And with that we were back at the beginning, and I couldn't resist the urge to smile, this was my element. The crowd was melting away, all that I could see was my opponent and by the looks of it she was just as focused as I was. I let the familiarity of the situation take over and every move after that felt mechanic and reflexive.

Astrid ran at me, and when I tried to side step around her attack she grabbed me and landed a breath taking knee to my stomach, she shoved me over and I quickly rolled over onto my back. When she got close enough I kicked her in the stomach and I grabbed her arm, while she off guard for a split second, I forced both my feet against her ribs and I threw her right over my head, still clinging tightly to her arm. She wrenched her arm from my grasp, and we both leapt to our feet. But this time I swung first without hesitation, I got in two sharp jabs to her face and a knee to her side before she kicked my left leg out from under me. With another burst of impressive speed she was behind me, and she wrapped her arm around my neck and put pressure on my windpipe. My vision blurred for the second time that night, but for a far different reason. Just when my need for oxygen was growing desperate I remembered her weak elbow, a surge of energy and clear headedness made me drive my elbow into the side of her head, blindsided her grip on me loosened a hair. I used her momentary confusion to yank her arm away from my throat, then I grabbed her arm near the shoulder and I flipped her over me.

My anger had turned into a sadistic pleasure, and I didn't hesitate to put my knee against her chest while she lay there on the ground. I gradually kept putting pressure on the region of her lungs until I saw the same panic in her eyes that had probably been in mine. At that moment my resolve weakened. I took my knee off her chest and I pulled her to her feet and I threw her against the nearest corner of the ring.

I waited for her to recover, she coughed and sputtered, but she straightened up ready all the same. My anger was ebbing away, and for the first time I just wanted to end the fight. So I took a step towards her and I fanned my right leg into a high kick that should've struck her right in the side of her head, but she took a half step back and I missed my inches. But that was fine, my moment carried me in a full circle and I came down on my right just to bring my left leg up and I kicked her with the heel of my foot right in the jaw, completing the round-house.

The crowd and I waited for ten seconds but she didn't get up, the bell sounded. It was over, I won.

I went over the help Astrid up, I grabbed her arm and I had helped almost all the way up before she suddenly pulled away from me, then she reached into the waist of her pants and withdrew something that reflected the light. My brain had barely fully registered the fact that she had a knife before I raised my arm to protect myself. I felt the blade pierce my skin, creating a long cut on my forearm that instantly began to bleed heavily.

The crowd yelled in outrage, a few people even entered the ring. "Cheater!" I heard several people yelling. And though the match was already over they were kind of right. Tracy was adamant about the rules of the fight, a fair bare fist to fist fight, no weapons.

And speaking of Tracy, I just noticed that he was one of the people that had climbed into the ring. I heard him speaking to Astrid, his voice low and quiet but deadly all the same. "You know the rules. No weapons."

"Right," Astrid said without even blinking. "I forgot."

"Well you better try to remember next time." Tracy took a step closer to her, "Because you're not the only person around here who carries a knife, and I assure you, we don't tolerate cheaters or sore losers. You okay Amy?" He asked, turning to me suddenly, not seeing the dark looking Astrid was giving him. I nodded. He looked at me intently for a minute, but I was telling the truth, I'd gotten worse injuries, and I knew perfectly well how to deal with them.

Finally he nodded. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew three hundred dollars, my entry money plus Astrid's. "You won." He said, handing me the money. I nodded, and after I pocketed the bills I left.

It didn't occur to me until I was lying in bed after I had dressed my wound the best I could that I still had school in the morning. I looked at the clock and groaned. 3:30 a.m. Three hours of sleep until I went back to school. I groaned again. I was beginning to really regret taking the blame for the fire Mitchel started in the school. What I didn't know was that it would later prove to be the very decision that changed my life forever.


	4. Chapter 4

Amy's POV

The next morning I made sure to pick out a shirt that would cover the cut on my arm. But the bruises that had blossomed up around my collarbone proved harder to conceal. In the end I just threw a hoodie on and hoped I wouldn't have to take it off.

I was used to hiding minor injuries after a fight, I'd been doing it for years now. It was always hard enough to hide it from kids at my own school, but it was damn near impossible to hide them from Colin and Lily. I still try to keep the cuts and bruises a secret but every now and then there'll be one I just can't cover up and my brother and sister are tactful enough to pretend not to notice.

If only the same were true for everyone...

School was pretty much the same as it had been the day before. Except this time I had gym instead of study hall before history.

Luckily half my worries were assuaged when everyone seemed to ignore me in the locker room as I changed, but the second half of my worries hit me full force after I changed.

JQA had gym uniforms, after my initial awe that the school had enough money for gym uniforms for all their students I remembered my injuries. The T-shirts left my battered arms and collarbone totally exposed. The last thing I needed was someone looking into my injuries. I paled at the thought.

of someone figuring out I fought like I did, if they found out that my mother only stayed with us a few days every couple months, if they found out about whatever my mom was so hell-bent on hiding from us...There's no way Lily, Colin, and I would stay together. We'd be separated. Spread across the country; just more faces lost in the system.

The bell jarred me out of my thoughts, all the girls were filing out of the locker rooms and into the gym. I swore loudly, earning reproachful looks, and I threw on a long sleeve under my gym tee. I was the last one out of the locker room.

The gym was much larger than what I was used to, it was also cleaner, and probably newer. However, I was perfectly accustomed to the students. Apparently it didn't matter how nice the school was, kids were kids. They had already separated into their own groups, talking and laughing loudly, basically throwing it in the face of everyone who was unfortunate enough to be standing alone. After a quick scan, I scowled. Today I was the only unfortunate one.

The gym coach was on the other side, eyes glued to his clipboard, not wasting a second thought on the students.

I couldn't help the nerves that set in. I was alone, friendless, a new kid, and, as far as any of these kids know, a criminal. I eyed the crowd of teens apprehensively, just waiting for someone to step forward, for someone to be the first to start the inevitable crusade against me.

I felt an hand on my shoulder, I jumped. Fist clenched and arm set to swing, I spun around to meet Riley's startled brown gaze.

"Hey, Amy!" She gave me a wide smile and a cheerful wave. She seemed happy to see me, I felt pretty guilty when I remembered I had been moments away from punching her in the face, reflexively of course. "Hi, Riley." I gave her my best attempt at a kind smile, while unclenching my hand and relaxing as much as I dared. "Come hang out with us." She nodded her head towards the rest of her friends, all standing in another group away from the general crowd. "I don't know Ri-" Before I could finish she grabbed my arm and tugged me along, she was surprisingly strong for a tiny girl. I felt all eyes on us as we approached and I couldn't help the heat that crept up my cheeks. I hated being the center of attention.

I waved awkwardly in lieu of a hello. Bad decision. The others waved back but kept their eyes on me. Just great.

Silence. Heavy and awkward. I turned to Riley for help, but she was positively beaming looking expectantly at her friends. Her expression was clear, I'd seen it on Lily and Colin after they'd brought home stray animals. Her face clearly said, 'Look what I brought home! Can we keep it?!'

I turned to Lucas instead, but he was trying hard not to smile, his eyes shone with amusement. Oh, so my struggling in the limelight was funny was it? Before I could tell him off and wipe that stupid smile off his face, one of his friends talked. Farkle I think it was. "The coaches aren't going to be pleased that you're out of uniform." I looked down at my shirts, forgetting I was wearing the long sleeve. I shrugged, whatever the coaches thought was the least of my worries. "I'm cold." I said simply, hoping they'd let it be.

"I like a girl who has a certain disregard for rules." Zay? said with an over exaggerated wink. I rolled my eyes, my natural defense of sarcasm stepping in. "Oh yes. Because I woke up this morning and thought, 'how am I going to impress that one kid from gym class?'"

"And history class, and lunch." He added, mock offended. I gasped. "Am I going to have to impress you twice more then?" Zay smiled. "I'm actually spoken for. So is Farkle. But Lucas here-" Zay turned to his taller friend smiling. Lucas however gave him a dark look, and Zay faltered.

Now I may not be the most socially perceptive person, but even I could see the tension that had suddenly settled over the group.

"Alright." The gym coach clapped his hands together loudly, drawing our attention but not quite alleviating the awkwardness. "Today is dodge-ball. Now I assume you're all bright enough to remember the rules. So, captains..." The coach examined the students critically. "Emerson, you're a captain." Emerson emerged from the largest group of students to stand by the coach a smug look on his face. "Friar. You're the other captain." Lucas went and stood on the coaches other side, calmly studying the students. From the looks of things, this was a regular set-up.

Emerson picked first; a big burly guy who looked like he could throw a concrete block as easily as any of the dodge-balls. His name escapes me.

I scanned the students, wondering who would be next. I was so absorbed in my mundane game that I didn't even hear Lucas' pick. Zay nudged me, then nodded in Lucas' direction. Lucas was looking at me expectantly. "Amy." He motioned me over. I walked over.

"Why'd you pick me first?" I asked, while Emerson took his time with his second pick. It was against the rules. You don't pick the new kid first, you just don't. Lucas shrugged. "Intuition." Was his only reply.

I was intrigued after that. Emerson followed all the rules when it came to picking gym teams. He picked the kids that looked strong, fast, and mean. Lucas, on the other hand, was a different story. He picked the small kids, the ones hiding in the back, basically all the ones that you expect to get massacred in a game like this.

I sighed, this was going to be ugly.

The teams lined up on opposite sides of the gym while the coach set the balls on half court.

He waited a minute before blowing the whistle. Instantly, the gym exploded with activity. People rushed forward to get the balls, some ran to get out of the way, and still some others stood completely still, just hoping not to get hit.

I was one of those who ran towards the balls. I couldn't help it. I loved this game.

I narrowly dodged a red rubber ball barreling towards my head, I chucked my own ball at the thrower's feet. One out.

However, my small victory was short lived. The opponent was picking players off our team effortlessly. One by one kids were struck and retreated off to the side lines, most of them relieved to just be out of the line of fire.

One kid in particular took a nasty hit right to the face. When Lucas turned to ask him if he was okay, he himself was struck in the back of the head. He sighed and followed the other kid off the court.

I scowled. Just great. Lucas was the only other person that wasn't just cowering in the back. Shit. I was definitely the next target.

Sure enough, a ball flew dangerously close to me head, with much more force behind it than what was necessary. I whipped my own ball at anyone I thought I could hit, unfortunately I missed, and now I didn't even have a ball. My only stroke of luck was the fact that the other team may have been huge and athletic but their aim was shit. None of their balls never came close to me or the other two still left on the team. I starting to feel pretty good when a ball came close enough and slow enough for me to catch it. Hell, I might've even been having fun. But, of course, that can never last.

Out of the clear blue, something struck me hard on the side of the head. So hard in fact that I lost my footing and hit the gym floor roughly. The hard landing didn't agree with my already bruised body.

I vaguely heard the coach blowing his whistle through the ringing in my ears. Blinking my eyes open I saw him telling Emerson off from the sidelines. Groaning, I allowed the other two on my team to help me to my feet.

"You alright?" The coach approached me, sounding much kinder than he had at the beginning of class. I nodded. Bad idea. "You sure? You should go to the nurse."

"No." I said automatically. "It's not a concussion. I'm fine." He looked at me skeptically for a second, then he conceded. I walked slowly to the sidelines, feeling everyone's eyes on me yet again.

Way to lay low.

"Are you sure you don't have a concussion?" Farkle asked me when I stood next to him. "Trust me. I know what a concussion feels like. This isn't one." Hurts like a bitch though, I added in my head.

I certainly wasn't having fun anymore. Go figure.

My head ached as I sat my stuff down in history. But I meant what I said to Farkle. I had gotten a nasty concussion from an angry fighter before, this sucked but it wasn't that bad.

"You okay?" I heard the familiar voice as he took the seat next to mine. I sighed, irritated.

"Yes. I'm fine. Why is everyone asking that? I can take a hit, you know." He put his hands up in surrender. "I'm not saying you couldn't. Just asking a question. I'm being friendly, you should try it."

"I'm perfectly friendly." I told him.

"You're bitter."

"I'm not bitter." My argument wasn't being helped by the scowl on my face. A scowl which deepened when I saw just how amused Lucas really was by the whole situation.

I fell into my usual defense of silence. "C'mon, this is the longest conversation we've ever had, don't go silent on me now." I didn't bother answering.

My head still throbbed, and silence between the two of us really wasn't helping us when everyone else were conversing loudly. I dug around in my bag looking for the bottle of Advil I had thrown in there this morning. I groaned as the medicine bottle eluded me. Finally having enough I shoved my bag to the floor. I groaned again as my stuff spilled out.

One day. Was it too much to want one fu- freaking day to go half way decently.

I angrily shoved my stuff away, I almost yelled when I felt a hand on my shoulder. However the harsh words died in my throat when Lucas offered me a small smile and my bottle of Advil. "You looking for these?" I nodded. "Thanks." I was maybe a little bitter, but I wasn't rude.

He gave me a few more minutes of silence before talking again. "Are you... doing anything tonight?" I was taken aback, but not so much as to lose my head. "Sorry, I'm busy. I've got stuff to do at home. Chores and such." He looked at me curiously. "How about tomorrow? You never seem to want to talk to me in the classroom, and that's kind of the assignment. How about you come over to Topanga's with me after school?"

I weighed the offer for a minute. I really didn't like leaving Lily and Colin with anyone, there was just too big a risk that they could accidentally say something that would raise suspicion. Then again, I can't even remember the last time I'd hung out with anyone I could consider anything other than family. Plus Lucas has put up with me more than most others, and he shouldn't flunk the assignment because of me. I sighed. "Sure why not?"

He gave me a wide smile, I couldn't help but return it with my own, albeit smaller.

I'll give him this, he is cute.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy's POV

I had a lot on my mind as I walked Colin and Lily back to the apartment that afternoon. So much on my mind, in fact, that I nearly walked into traffic, twice. I kept running into pedestrians, and I actually managed to take us off the wrong subway stop, forcing us to wait twenty minutes for the next train that ran on that line.

My sibling kept shooting me concerned looks, but I knew I could never tell them what was really on my mind. Not without telling them everything messed up in their lives.

And for all that mom and I fought about, we were always in agreement when it came to one thing. Lily and Colin would be shielded as much as humanly possible.

So that's what I did, I shielded them, always. Mom wasn't around enough to share the burden.

I kept food on the table, making sure they never feared going hungry. I kept their clothes and belongings in as good of shape as possible, never letting them know how hard it would be to replace anything. I took great pains making sure neither of them ever checked the mail. They may be young, but I knew they would notice the growing pile of bills. And I made sure they never asked too many questions about where Mom disappeared to for 'work'. We didn't need to know about her shady business. As much as it irked me that she didn't trust me enough to tell me, I knew it was for the best. I didn't need anything else to stress about.

Of course all this led me to remember my anxieties about our schools. My siblings were still to young to fully appreciate our situation, and I lived in constant fear of them accidentally telling someone that they were being raised by their under-aged sister. Then there was the fact that I'd have to keep my fighting injuries even more concealed at this new school where everyone always seemed to be watching too closely.

And I hated myself thoroughly when, despite everything else, my mind kept drifting to Lucas.

I was looking forward to hanging after school, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. I mean, the whole purpose is so he can learn about me. Learn every secret I've worked so hard to protect. I should be anxious beyond belief, running excuses and lies through my head. Instead I was slightly... _giddy?_

Ugh. I've never had to worry about these vapid emotions. What was wrong with me?! I should be irritated and slightly worried that he had taken such a keen interest in me. Instead I was kinda...flattered. Not good.

By the time we got to our apartment I was mentally exhausted, and my stress levels were through the roof. Plus my earlier headache had decided to make a reappearance.

"Great," I mumbled, dropping into one of our mismatched kitchen chairs. "This is just great." I put my head into my arms and tried to clear my head. No such luck.

I felt a tiny hand on shoulder, turning my head I saw Lily looking at me with shy, innocent eyes. Fleetingly I wondered how old I was when I sacrificed my own innocence. Probably not much older than her. The realization dampened my mood even more.

"Amy, what are we having for dinner?" I closed my eyes, and cursed in my head. I hadn't even spared a thought about dinner. "I don't know, Lily. Let me look. Just gimme five minutes."

"I can make dinner. I know how to make cereal, and toast." I smiled at her enthusiasm. "That sounds good, but maybe I should make something a little bigger and you can make cereal and toast for breakfast tomorrow, deal?"

"Deal." She smiled and offered me her pinkie, I pinkie swore and rose from my seat with a groan.

Just then, I heard a loud knock on the door. Surprised, I went to the door and answered it, the little monsters huddled a few feet behind me. No one ever knocked.

"Hey Ms. Sawyer." I greeted, relaxing at the sight of the shriveled old woman from down the hall. She was a short, stopping black woman in her mid eighties. With wispy hair and coal dark eyes she had a kind smile and a loud voice, probably due to her abysmal hearing. She refused to wear a hearing aid. She was undoubtedly a close family friend. With her penchant for sarcasm and sharp wit, as well as an affinity for jokes she wasn't allowed to explain to the kids. She was tiny but her presence filled a room.

Her grandson, Benny, stood behind her. He was a lot like his grandma, loud, funny, as not exactly family friendly. But he was the closest thing I had to a best friend.

Well other than Michael, who now that I think about it, I haven't talked to since the fire. Not so much as a thank-you. Bastard.

Benny, and Ms. Sawyer ambled into the apartment with all the usual greetings. Benny placed a pan of lasagna on the kitchen counter. It smelled heavenly. Ms. Sawyer was the best cook in Long Island. No one who's ever tried her dishes will tell you otherwise.

"We've been missing you in school, Amy." Benny told me, slinging an arm around me. I only came up to his shoulders. "We?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged. "Fine. Only me. I was just tryin' to make you feel better."

I giggled, elbowing his side. "Try harder."

"Where's your mother?" Ms. Sawyer asked us all. Her voice carrying over everyone else's. "She's at work." I answered quickly. Ms. Sawyer just shook her head. "She's a dedicated woman. She's always working when I come over. I'm beginning to think she doesn't even live here!" I chuckled uneasily along with the older woman.

 _Mom's dedicated to something alright._ I couldn't help but think bitterly.

Dinner was much louder than usual, as was to be expected. It was also much better tasting. I prided myself on knowing how to do many things, and cooking was something I thought I did decently. But I couldn't hold a candle to Betty Sawyer, I don't think anyone could.

"So how are the new schools going?" Ms. Sawyer asked, finishing her second slice of lasagna. I ate silently as the kids described their last two days in painstaking detail. When the older woman finally turned to me, I found I didn't really have much to say. But I did have something to ask. "It's been fine. And I was wondering, if it isn't too much trouble, if you could watch Colin and Lily for a while after school tomorrow? I'm meeting a...friend, tomorrow to work on homework." Benny looked at me accusingly.

"You've been at this school for two days and you've already made friends. You went to the old school for ten years and I was your only friend there. What's the deal, Stevens?" Ms. Sawyer shot her grandson a sharp look.

"Of course I'll watch the kids tomorrow, Amy." I was surprised when she reached across the table and grasped my hand tightly. She was deaf but apparently not arthritic. "I'm glad you three have switched schools. This is a fresh start for all of you. And no matter what anyone says, I don't think you're a criminal, Amy." I met her eyes, surprised by the sincerity in her words. "Benny told me what really happened. You're loyal, just like your father was." I sucked in a breath and she squeezed my hand. "I'm proud of you, Amy."

I had no words, not that I could bring myself to say them. A lump had formed in my throat, making it impossible to tell her just how much her confidence meant to me.

She smiled and winked. Somehow, I knew she understood.

I was late, and frankly I didn't care. In fact, I had purposely taken as much time as I dared taking Lily and Colin to the subway station, and giving them strict instructions to have Ms. Sawyer text the emergency cell I had taken from the drawer as soon as they got to her apartment.

I had hoped that he'd get bored of waiting and leave. But as I stood outside the door to **Topanga's** I saw him still sitting on one of the couches tucked into the corner. I was simultaneously disappointed and relieved. I pushed down the relief, but it remained. Defiant, and determined to mess with my head.

Pushing the door open, I stalled by studying the small café. Warm and comfortable. Buzzing with the energy of people talking, and laughing and just plain enjoying themselves.

I was way over my head.

He hadn't noticed me come in. Giving me one more second to steel myself and organize my thoughts before sitting down.

"Hey, Lucas." I greeted with a (fake) warm smile. "Sorry I'm late, I was dropping my little brother and sister off."

He smiled when he saw me. Lord help me.

"That's fine. I actually just got here." Some reason I had a hard time believing that, but I didn't say anything. I was about to do some heavy duty lying. It would only be fair to let him get away with a few white lies himself.

"I didn't know you had any siblings." He said, sensing the impending lull in conversation. I nodded, smile still intact. "Well, you never asked."

"Would you have told me even if I did ask?" He asked the question cheerfully. Hell, I'd even go so far as to say he was teasing me. But still the question struck me. I felt my smile fade, looking away from his face to stare avidly at the table in front of us.

"Honestly..." I hesitated. "Probably not." I sensed him frown, I tried hard to avoid eye contact.

"Why?" It was a one word question, but it confused me to no end. _Why? Why do I guard every little thing? Every trivial piece of information about myself. Is it because I'm afraid? Am I scared to open up? Who's benefiting from all these secrets? Do I have to be as paranoid as my mother? Why? Why? Why?_

All these questions chased circles around my brain. I sighed and scooted away from him. "It's complicated." I answered finally. I wished I could explain it better to him. I really did. But I couldn't even explain it to myself.

"Do you like chess?" he asked abruptly. Slowly I nodded.

I watched as he reached under the table and produced a beat-up cardboard game box.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched him set the game up. I had very pleasant memories of the game.

A log cabin in upstate New York, summer bonfires, hikes through the woods, a mean looking grandfather who was the biggest teddy bear in the world. Warm venison stew, and homemade cookies, and the sweet smell of my grandmother's perfume. My grandfather had taught me to play chess, and my grandmother had taught me everything I knew about cooking.

I moved so that Lucas and I were seated on opposite sides of the chessboard.

"Here's the deal." I looked at him surprised. Deal? What deal? "Every time one of our pieces are taken we have to answer a question." I thought about it a second.

"We can pass questions we don't want to answer." I proposed. Lucas nodded. "Fair enough. Deal?" I smiled and shook his hand. "Deal."

I looked down at the board and moved my right most pawn two spaces forward. He mirrored my move on his side. And so the game went, we sat in silence for five straight minutes. Focused solely on the game.

I sighed when I saw that I would have to sacrifice one of my pawns to save my knight. Lucas' rook seized my piece when I moved it. I waited in anticipation for the question. "What's your favorite color?" For a second I sat there, processing. Then I snorted in a very ladylike way when the absurdity of the question hit me. "Really?" I couldn't help but ask. "That's what you want to know?"

He smiled. "Yes, that's what I want to know. Now answer the question." Despite the firmness in his voice I noted a slight red tinge to his face.

"Blue." I answered.

"Why?"

I snorted again. "Sorry, one question per piece."

As the game progressed I learned that his favorite color was green, or orange. That he thought his mother was the best cook in the country, (I'd have to bring him something from Ms. Sawyer), He moved here last year from Texas, he loved animals and wanted to be a vet. His mom was a nurse and his dad worked with the police. He loved baseball, basketabll, all sports apparently. The only question he skipped was when I asked him about the tension between him and his friends in gym yesterday.

Meanwhile, I told him about Lily and Colin and Benny. As well as Ms. Sawyer's cooking. My love of the bands Shinedown, Greenday, and Falling in Reverse. My love of dogs, and the fact that my grandfather had taught me to play chess. I skipped the questions about my parents, and about my usual unwillingness to answer questions.

The game was drawing to a close, he had four pieces while I had five.

Four now, he had just taken my last pawn.

I waited patiently, for his question while he seemed to debate with himself. Finally, "I know you probably don't wanna answer this but...Did you light that fire at your old school?" I froze, unsure of how to answer the question without revealing things I want to stay buried.

"Why are you asking? I'm sure you and everyone else have already picked a side when it comes to that." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "It doesn't matter what I tell you, because you're just going to go on believing whatever you already do."

"That's not true-" He started softly, but I didn't let him finish.

"Do you believe I set my school on fire, Lucas?" He hesitated. "Go on," I pushed. "Be honest. It doesn't affect me one way or the other really." He bit his lip and shook his head. "No, I don't think you did it." I ignored the way my heart swelled slightly at his belief in my innocence. I kept my face a stony mask.

"What if I were to look you dead in the eye and with all sincerity told you that I did it. That I lit that fire. Would you believe me?" He hesitated again, fiddling with his hands. "No," He said softly. "I wouldn't believe you."

I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady. "Then what does it matter if I actually did it or not? Everyone's already given their verdict. Nothing I say will change anyone's mind. Why are you so hell bent on believing I'm innocent?"

He answered quickly this time, "Because believe or not I know you enough to know that you would have lit that fire. You're not that type of person. You wouldn't hurt someone deliberately."

I sucked in a breath, leaning back. If only he knew where all the money keeping keeping my family afloat came from. Maybe then he wouldn't be so quick to defend what type of person I am.

Looking at the board, I moved my queen.

"Checkmate." I said, throwing my bookbag over my shoulder and storming out of **Topanga's**


	6. Chapter 6

Amy's POV

"Who does he think he is?!" I asked the wiry tabby cat, as I angrily scooped tuna fish into a bowl. Yellow eyes watched my every move attentively, and her ears perked up at my voice, but she never answered me.

"Why does he think he can just dig into my personal life? Especially when I've made it very clear that I'm not comfortable talking about it." I slammed the bowl onto the windowsill and the cat purred as he lapped up his lunch. I absentmindedly stroked the dirty yellow fur, trying to quell my anger.

"I mean, I guess I don't mind talking about Colin and Lily. And he probably already assumed I lived in some slum. And…" I bit my lip, my anger ebbing away, quickly being replaced by guilt. "I guess he never really asked anything too dangerous to talk about, nothing really all that personal, but still-" I trailed off. I turned to the cat. "You get what I'm saying, right?"

The cat's wide eyed stare told her that she did not get what I was saying. I sighed. "Of course not."

/

"I don't know what I did! She just got up and stormed out!" Lucas Friar paced around his bedroom, running his hands through his hair in irritation. Zay Babineux sat in his friend's desk chair, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Sounds like your date didn't go well, then?" He asked. Green eyes glared at him. "It wasn't a date, Zay. I've told you that a hundred times."

Zay put his hands up in surrender. "Whatever you say man. But let me tell you, you were really excited about this 'not-date'. And it seems you're really bummed that it ended so badly."

Lucas slumped on his bed, confused. He knew Zay had a point but he wasn't about to admit it. Not yet. "I'm bummed out because," He searched his mind for a logical explanation. "Because I might've ruined my one chance to actually talk to her. We were getting along fine and then…we weren't."

"Well, you in her defense you were pretty tactless." Zay told his flustered friend. Lucas made a sound of disbelief.

"Tactless? How was I tactless?"

"C'mon. Think about it. This girl's obviously got a ton of walls up. She spent the first two days that she knew you constantly pushing you away, when you finally get her to open up a little bit; you bring up the one thing she's probably the most insecure about. So she gets pissed and storms off. That wasn't exactly a 'smooth criminal' move there, Casanova."

"I wasn't trying to…That's not what...It's not like…It wasn't a date." Lucas finally managed to choke out. Zay just laughed at his friend's frustration.

"So you're saying you don't like this girl at all?"

/

"Of course I don't like him!" I burst out, pacing across the worn carpet, clenching and unclenching my fists. The cat watched me. Seemingly bored at my inner turmoil, after my outburst I guess now apparently it's my outer turmoil.

"I mean, sure he's cute. He's really cute. But that doesn't mean anything. I can think he's cute without liking him, right?" I shook my head. Those were thoughts for another day. There was the guilt creeping up on me again.

"So, I might've over-reacted a little bit when he asked about the fire? He still shouldn't have sprung that up on me like that!"

The cat looked unconvinced. "Don't look at me like that! It's not like I was trying to be a dramatic bitch. He just caught me off guard."

I groaned and dropped onto the couch. "He's nice, though." I admitted. "He plays chess like Grandpa Tom used to." I smiled fondly at the random piece of information.

"He likes animals." I continued. I turned my head towards the feline. Lily, Colin and I had never really had a name for her. She just showed up at our window every few hours and wandered around the apartment. I warned the kids not to give her a name so they wouldn't get too attached. A year later and the cat still comes by to hang out. We just refer to her as 'the cat' or 'Kitty'.

"He'd like you." I told Kitty, she simply purred in response. "Micheal didn't like you." I remembered the severe hatred the two shared. "You didn't like him very much either. Maybe for a good reason." I mused. Micheal's isolation still hurt. He was a really good friend, and maybe in some deep superficial part of my brain I had really liked him. But he had left me just like everyone else, he let me take the fall and hung me out to dry. Much to my annoyance, my mind drifted to Lucas again. He seemed genuine, sincere.

"Son of a bitch." I mumbled. "I'm royally screwed."

/

"Zay, how many times do I have to tell you that it's not like that." Lucas was getting severely annoyed with his friend.

"I'm just saying, you're taking this project way too seriously for someone who claims not to be crushing on her."

"Huh?"

Zay rolled his eyes at the confusion on the texan's face. "Mr. Matthew's project, remember? The reason you started talking to her in the first place? Ring any bells?" Lucas frowned. "Oh… yeah."

Zay couldn't help but smile. He was no relationship expert. Hell, it took his entire group of friends to get him and Vanessa together; but he was sure Lucas was crushing hard on this girl. And it was his civic duty as a best friend to both help and embarrass him.

"She's pretty." Zay offered, pretending to casually scroll through his phone.

"Yeah." Lucas smiled. "She's smart. She beat me at chess." Zay simply nodded. Lucas' smiled widened. "She plays chess Papi Joe does." Zay simply shook his head, not understanding for the life of him why his friend was so oblivious.

/

Thankfully, I didn't have to dwell on my thoughts and suffer through Kitty's lack of social skills for very long. The monsters were back from Ms. Sawyer's. All loud voices and stories and complaints about homework and teachers. It was rowdy and chaotic and in all honesty completely blissful. I find that when my world is crazy, my mind is calm, and vice versa.

I was distracted for the kids for the rest of the evening. But lying there, in my bed, with not even the cat for company, I found my mind cluttered again. And cluttered minds rarely make good decisions, right? At least mine never does anyway.

I guess that's how I ended up walking the darkened sidewalk towards the warehouse.

Once again, when I entered I was greeted by the unfamiliar week night crowd. I spotted Astrid in the corner she had skulked in Monday night. Her icy eyes met mine from all the way across the room, and even from this distance I could see her repressed anger. My heart rate kicked up, but I schooled my features to look calm. I gave her a nod of recognition, she didn't return it. I really hoped I wouldn't be fighting her.

I climbed the catwalk and made my way towards Tracy's usual haunt, overlooking the ring. But my path was blocked by a mountain of a man with a scowl on his face and explicit tattoos coating every exposed area of skin. The guy was huge, and intimidating. But I've been fighting for some time and I've learned a few important things. One of those things is that everything is in the eyes. And this guy's brown eyes told me that he wasn't nearly as scary as the rest of him looked. No, he looked terrified, apparently to the point that a 15 year-old girl seemed startling.

"Let her through." Tracy sounded bored, the body guard seemed relieved. Tracy was casually leaning against the railing, liquor bottle in hand, cigarette hanging from his mouth. The familiar sight was incredibly reassuring, especially after how alien the past few days have felt.

"New security, Tracy?" I joined him overlooking the fight. The air smelled of smoke, alcohol, rust and even faint traces of bleach. It should weird me out how oddly calming I found this place, but it doesn't.

"It's necessary." He seemed annoyed as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Why?" As far as illegal fighting rings go, this one was pretty upscale. Fair, reliable, as safe as one could expect it to be. A bodyguard wasn't necessary, was it?

Tracy shrugged, and for a split second I thought I saw fear flit across his face. But it was gone after a second generous take of nicotine. "Nothing you should trouble yourself with, Amaryllis." I scowled at his use of my full name, he knew it annoyed me and only ever used it to disrupt conversation.

"I wanna fight." I told him, expecting the usual speech. "No." Was all he said, turning his attention back to the ring. It took a second for his response to register. "What? What d'ya mean 'no'?"

He shrugged again. "I mean…No. It's late and you have school in the morning, you should be heading home." I gaped at him. He's never denied me a fight. "Tracy what's going on?"

He sighed and tensed, scanning the crowd below us, no one seemed to be paying us any mind. He wasn't quick enough to hide the anxiety on his face this time.

"Listen, Amy. I'm saying all this as your friend alright?" I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. "I don't trust the crowd that's been coming by here lately. I don't recognize any of 'em but they seem to know all the fighters. And they've mentioned you a few times." He added that last part hesitantly. "Me? Why? What do they say?" I hated myself for how panicked I sounded.

Tracy scratched his head, clearly agitated. "They usually just ask if you're available to fight."

"And what do you tell them?" He looked momentarily hurt. "I tell 'em that I have no idea who you are, that's I've never seen you here before. Honestly, what'd you think I'd tell 'em?" I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thanks, Tracy." At least he was loyal. He nodded.

"You should get outta here. I don't wanna see you here for a while, got it?" I nodded, too shaken up to argue. I made my way down to the floor and through the crowd in a daze. For the most part everyone ignored me, but I felt icy eyes on my back as I slipped out of the warehouse.

I've never felt so jumpy as I made my way through the abandoned streets. Every little noise made my heart jump into my throat. I constantly kept looking behind me, in fear I was being followed. I was about half way home when my paranoia started to fade. Tracy was right, I just had to lay low and avoid the fights for a while.

Just when I was starting to truly calm down, I spotted a dark van idling at the corner. I stopped. _You're just being paranoid,_ I scolded myself firmly. There are creepy vehicles all the time, just walk past it. Nevertheless, I pulled out the pocket knife I usually kept in the waistband of my pants. The small weapon gave me some much needed confidence.

I raised my head and walked calmly past the van, albeit a little faster than normal. I relaxed as I turned the corner.

 _See. Just paranoi-_ I didn't even have time to finish the thought before I felt an arm wrap my neck from behind. I screamed, and a hand clamped over my mouth.

Adrenaline and instinct drove me to act. I drove the blade of the pocket knife into the man's arm. Crimson blood gushed from the wound and soaked my shirt. He howled in pain and pushed me away. I pivoted and aimed the hardest kick I could muster at the man's crotch. He dropped, with a groan and a curse. I spun, ready to bolt when I felt a fist connect with the left side of my face and I stumbled.

Shit more than one. Another blow to the face, this one knocking me into the brick wall of a building. The rough surface cut into my skin and I tasted blood.

Assface number two grabbed me roughly by the arm and I returned the favor by getting a quick jab right at his windpipe. He choked and gasped for air, but kept a firm hold on me.

I kicked, punched, spat, screamed for help…nothing worked. Assface number one must've recovered from the nut shot, he came up behind me and slipped a bag over my head. I continued to yell insults and curses and pleas for help. I struggled as much as possible, even as Number One restrained my wrists behind my back, even as both men dragged and pushed me presumably towards their van. My screams morphed into pleas, when I realized no one was coming. I begged them to let me go, I even stopped struggling for a second. That was all they needed. I was lifted off my feet and thrown bodily into the back of the van.

The rough carpeting scratched at my skin. My body ached with forming bruises, I could smell the blood coating my shirt, and I could taste the blood staining my mouth.

My mind flashed to Colin and Lily, who would wake up in the morning, confused as to why I didn't get them up for school. I imagined their faces, their panic, their fear, when they realized I wasn't home. Maybe they'd contact Mom some how and she'd rush home to at least care for her two remaining kids. Ms. Sawyer and Benny would be worried, maybe even worried enough to go to the police, (Mom certainly wouldn't). And my mind inexplicably drifted to Lucas, it seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I imagined that soft and concerned look in his green eyes when he learned I'd gone missing. He'd probably get over it within a few days, but still, a small part of me hoped he'd a least be a little worried.

The van shuddered beneath me as the engine roared to life. Fear burned through my chest, boiling my blood, and charring my bones. I took a deep shaky breath and did something I hadn't done in years. I broke the dam, and I cried.

 _Please, someone, anyone, help me._

 **Well, this is a twist. I apologize for the mystery plot, but this is the first romance type thing I've ever written and I'm clueless. So I'm just gonna throw in a genre I can fall back on, just in case the romance ends up being shit.**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor**

 **-Mockingjay**


	7. Chapter 7

Amy's POV

There's two general reactions when someone is put in a situation of great fear or distress. Either they freak the eff out, or they become hyper-observant. I tend to become hyper-observant. I like to think its because of how often I find myself in dangerous situations, or maybe I'm just a freak. Either way, I couldn't find it in me to care at the moment.

Even as I cried, my mind wasn't entirely invested in my sadness. Through the tears I tried to focus. I attempted to keep track of the turns, but I lost count. I listened for sounds of how bad the traffic was but the rumbling of the engine and the squeaking of the tires made that impossible. I tried to listen for the sounds of the men talking but they remained silent. The van truddled on for a good fifteen minutes before it came to an abrupt stop.

Panic flared up in me again. I didn't have the slightest idea where I could possibly be in the city. The only things I had learned was that, judging from the smell of the bag over my head, it had never been washed. And by the way the van jumped everytime we had hit a pothole, my guess was, the van's shocks were bad.

I heard movement from the front of the vehicle. Maybe they'd reveal something important if they didn't think I could hear them? My body went slack, feigning unconsciousness. A hand roughly grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up into a sitting position.

"Sit up." Came a new voice. Cold. Demanding. And surprisingly feminine.

Shit. A woman. There were three of these assholes. Just what I freaking needed. I was so surprised by the new information that I forgot I was supposed to be faking sleep. Too late now.

I sat on my knees, keeping my breathing as even as possible. And I waited.

"It seems were finally on even footing." The woman said, she sounded like she was about three feet in front of me. I snorted, despite the situation. Spoiler, I can be impulsive under pressure.

"'Even footing'? Really? Yeah, sitting here, tied up, with a bag over my head definitely makes me feel even with you. You must be the considerate type."

The woman let loose a laugh. It was a chilling sound. "You're just what she said you would be. Tough as nails. No nonsense."

I waited a beat, processing everything she said. " _She_ said I would be? Who?" I kept my voice as firm as possible. _Fear is a weapon everyone will use against you._ I can't remember who told me that, but I've lived by that wisdom ever since. So I kept myself as calm as possible, showing no outward signs of fear.

"You're right, Amy. I'm getting ahead of myself."

I froze, almost breaking my calm facade. "You know my name?" Before she could say anything else, pieces slammed together in my head. Sending a surge of anger absolute enough to vaporize the panic, "You're the one who's been stalking the fights. You're the one who's been asking about me!"

The woman laughed again. I found it more irritating than frightening this time. "Who are you?" I growled.

"Now, if I tell you that, that takes all the fun out of this?"

"Fun?! Yeah I'm having a blast!"

"Maybe not now. But once the game starts you will be."

I snorted again. "Game? Lady you are effed in the head."

A gruff voice spoke from my right. I jumped, I had completely forgotten about the thugs who had grabbed me in the first place.

"Listen," The guy growled. "She's not the right girl for this job. You know her history. We can't trust her family, Kat-"

"Shut up, you incompetent moron!" Came a higher-pitched male voice, from my other side. But the first guy was on a roll and there was no stop in sight.

"I mean, you guys all remember her father! How he turned on us all, how he-"

"Shut up!"

Before I could even be properly confused I heard a faint click coming from where the woman stood. Then there was a heart-stopping _**Bang!**_ Followed by a flash of light. The was a thud as dead weight hit the floor, and the whole van trembled. I felt a wetness start to seep through the knees of my pants.

I bit my tongue to stop from screaming. My entire body shook. Lights exploded behind my eyes and my head felt feather light. I thought I was going to faint. Or throw-up. Probably both.

Suddenly I heard movement, and then a vice-like grip on my bicep that I was sure would leave another bruise.

"I know you, Amy. I know all about you. And I know you want answers."

"I don't want anything from you!"

"Don't you wonder where your mother disappears to so often?" The woman whispered inches from my ear. I shivered, her breath gave me chills even through the fabric of the bag that was still over my head. "Don't you wonder why you have to live in the shadows? Why she shelves all the responsibility on your shoulders?" I stayed still and quiet. Not trusting my voice or body.

"I can give you all the answers you so desperately need. All you need to do is play along and follow the rules." I gulped.

"What rules?"

I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. "You will follow every instruction to the letter. You will not go to the police, or you're dead. If you involve anyone and they go to the police, they're dead. You will report back when and where we ask you to, no exceptions, and you will answer all questions honestly. And if I so much as suspect that you're starting to stray from the game, you're sweet siblings will be the ones to pay the price."

My breathing hitched, I didn't have a doubt that she'd go through with all her threats, not after she just shot her croonie.

"They never did anything to you." I breathed, glad my hands were restrained to keep me from strangling this bitch.

"Neither did you. But, yet, here you are." I took a deep calming breath.

"Why do you want me? What can I possibly do that someone else can't?" I could feel her shrug.

"What can I say? You're a fighter. A gambler. You're used to all the odds being stacked against you. I need someone who can operate under those conditions. And if you're successful…" She trailed off. "Well…Maybe I can promise you the safety of your pathetic little family."

She released my arm. "Drop her off." She demanded, to her men- scratch that, man.

I heard movement again. The van's engine roared to life, I felt someone loosened the bindings on my wrist. I stayed still, not even nurturing the thought of fighting. I was numb, my mind dangerously blank. I didn't count the turns, or listen to the traffic, I didn't even keep track of how long we drove.

Once again the van stopped suddenly, and I heard the doors being opened. I put up no fight as I was lifted off my feet and tossed again, this time out of the van.

My senses returned in a tidal wave as I struck the pavement. I groaned as pushed myself up enough to wrestle against the ropes on my wrists. When I finally wriggled free I yanked the bag off my head and looked around. I was definitely not in my neighborhood. The buildings were nicer, the streets were bustling with activity that most likely had nothing to do with crime. People were laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying themselves. I felt like a trespasser.

At least the freaks in the van had been considerate enough to drop me in a back alley, away from the general crowd. At least I wasn't being gawked at.

I steeled my nerves, and tucked my hoodie tighter around myself. I slipped down the ally and joined the mass of people moving on the sidewalk. I looked around frantically for anything to tell me where I was.

I stopped dead when I saw it. An apartment building, nothing remarkable about it really. But I recognized the name on the sign above the stoop. I sighed. If my memory wasn't completely shot from the trauma of being kidnapped,than I was sure that this was Lucas' apartment building.

People kept jostling me as they moved past but I paid them no attention. When you witness (or at least hear) a person shoot someone, angry New Yorkers don't seem so intimidating.

I finally made my way towards the complex, and I slumped on the steps.

My entire body hurt, and I was sure I was in shock. I couldn't focus on anything, and the bright lights of the city hurt my head. I knew I should be heading home, but I was sure I'd just get myself more lost. A cold breeze knifed through my thoughts. I shivered and pulled my hoodie tighter around me. I looked longingly into the warm interior of the apartment building.

My eyes drifted towards the star speckled sky. "You really like screwing with me, don't ya?" A shooting star streaked across the indigo blanket of space. It was beautiful. I sighed again, as I stood up. "That doesn't make up for all the other bullshit I've been through tonight."

Swallowing my pride, I pushed through the door. The inside was about ten degrees warmer, frowning through the window at the night sky outside I made one last remark. "If this goes bad I'm blaming you."

I scanned the resident's list looking for the F's.

It was when I pressed the button next to the name Friar that, to my horror , I found that I didn't have the slightest clue what to say. I choked on my words, making (very attractive) gurgling sounds.

I leaned my head against the wall. What the Hell was I doing here? He probably hated me. Or at least wanted to avoid me. My heart sank at the realization. I was halfway through the door when I heard an elevator open with a ding.

"Amy?" I whirled around, at the sound of Lucas' voice. My attempt at a smile felt more like a grimace. "Hey, Lucas. Um…Wassup?" I couldn't quite decipher the look on his face but I think it was mostly shock.

"I was just…" He trailed off, his eyes widening as he slowly started to register my appearance. "Is that blood?" He motioned to my pants.

"Don't worry." I tried to smile again, it didn't work. "It's not mine." I balled my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. The fatal gunshot still echoing in my head. His startled eyes shot to my face.

"That's probably the most worrying thing to say to someone. What happened? Are you okay?" He stepped towards me and gripped my shoulders. I winced as his hand pressed against one of the new-formed bruises.

He dropped his hands with an apologetic look, but he stayed close, eyeing all my visible injuries. He motioned me onto the elevator, I didn't have the energy to protest. We rode up in silence, and the quiet continued as he unlocked the door to the apartment.

"Nice place." I mumbled quietly, while being led inside. It was spacious and comfortable, and smelled faintly of a mix of cleaning products. My heart jumoed to my throat when I glanced at my watch, **1:23**. I prayed Lily and Colin would sleep through the night, I couldn't deal with their questions when I got home.

"How's your leg?" He asked, pulling me down onto the couch, and seeming oblivious to my discomfort. It hit me full force that I was in his home, uninvited, at one in the morning, beaten and slightly disorientated.

"It's fine." I told him, as casually as I could muster. "I told you; it's not my blood."

"You were limping." He said it so matter-of-factly one might expect that something like this happened all the time. But I saw something in his eyes, something that told me he wasn't nearly as calm as he was acting.

I didn't say anything, because I was telling the same lie. No matter how casual I acted, inside, my brain was a hurricane. I could feel the storm surge of thoughts pushing against the barrier, and the barrier was starting to wane. But I kept a firm hold on my emotions, I couldn't let the chaos consume me. Not yet.

"Amy?" I jumped when I felt Lucas' hand on my knee. I didn't bother to conjure up a smile or a chipper tone, I had a feeling he was seeing straight through it all anyway.

"I'm fine, Lucas. Just spacing out a little is all." He studied me closely for a minute before finally shaking his head, looking exasperated. "Amy, it's 1:30 in the morning, and you turn up in the lobby, looking like you just lost a fight with a meat grinder. I want to help you. I really do. But you have to be honest with me. Now-" He stood up. "I'm going to go get a first aid kit. Please..." He trailed off, his expression pleading. "Please, don't run off." I gave a minute nod, and he disappeared from the room.

I pulled in a shaky breath. In my head I could feel cracks forming on the emotional barrier. _Why'd you come here?_ I scolded myself. _You knew this was a bad idea!_

I groaned. Honesty was never something I was good at. I'm a natural liar. Of course, in my situation, that's a good thing. And I've always been proud of my ability to think on the spot and make up excuses. I've never seen my dishonesty as a major character flaw, that is until I met Lucas. He seemed so genuine and sincere, he seemed so…at peace with himself.

And in that moment, I wanted that. I wanted to feel at peace within my mind, even if my world was in shambles. For a moment in time; as I sat there, bruised, and bloodied; I wanted that more than anything else.

More than I wanted a mother who was present. More than I wanted to be able to just act like a teenager. More than I wanted Lily and Colin to grow up feeling secure. More than I wanted an actual home. More than that small part of my brain that wanted Lucas. More than all those things…I wanted peace.

And the feeling was so overwhelming that I found myself looking forward to being honest with Lucas. My darkest secrets were already on the tip of my tongue waiting to be spilled. Just this once I was going to be selfish. I _was_ going to get what I wanted. No matter the consequences.

/

Lucas' POV

"You were kidnapped?!" I couldn't help but gape at her after my outburst. She held my gaze for a minute then dropped her vibrant eyes to the floor. Her cheeks tinged red like her hair.

"Well…" She trailed off. "I wouldn't necessarily call it kidnapping. It was more like…Nope, I don't have a word for it."

I shook my head and went back to cleaning some of the cuts on her left arm. "So you think the people that kidnapped you were the ones who were hanging around the fights?"

"I'm pretty sure. If not them, then probably someone working for them."

"Do you remember anything about the kidnappers?" I asked, "Anything we could use to figure out who they were?" Amy bit her lip and shook her head.

"Not much. They drove a dark van, with really bad shocks. One of the guys had a deeper voice, the other had a higher pitched voice. Though that may have been a lingering result of the crotch kick." She stopped and I gave her an encouraging smile. "The woman freaked me out." She admitted. "One of the guys called her, 'Kat'...She threatened to hurt my family if I didn't go through with the Game. At first I thought She might be bluffing…But then she-she…She shot one the guys…The one with the deeper voice." I was surprised by the quake in her voice, and even more so by the tears that were starting to spill. I reached for her hand but she yanked it away to roughly wipe the tears off her face.

"Sorry." She apologized, voice muffled by the hands she had buried her face in. "I'm just a little shaken up. A little scared."

I gently pulled her hands away from her face. "Amy, anybody would be scared after something like that. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She sighed. "I'm not ashamed I'm just…Not used to telling people."

I squeezed her hand in comfort and we sat in silence for several minutes. Suddenly she leaned her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"You don't have to apol-" I started but she interrupted me.

"No. I do have to apologize. Because now you're involved. And…I don't know what that means, or what's going to happen. And for that I'm sorry."

"I'm not." I told her firmly. "I'm glad you told me. And I promise I'll help you in anyway I can."

She smiled at me, a full smile that made her eyes shine and momentarily take my breath away. "Thanks, Lucas. That means a lot. Not a ton of people would promise that to someone they've only known for 3 days."

"The best things happen in an instant." I told her, quoting one of my mom's favorite phrases. Her gaze locked onto mine and for a second I couldn't focus on anything else. I couldn't even tell you my name. All I knew was the color of her eyes, the color of an ocean storm, restless and pulsating with raw power. When she finally looked away I found myself missing the intensity of her eyes, where a few days ago I flinched away from it.

"Come on," I told her, pulling myself out of my trance. "Let's get you home."

"You're walking me home?" She asked incredulous while she threw on her coat. I nodded, and she laughed.

"How chivalrous of you."

I didn't bother to respond.

/

Amy's POV

The trek home was quiet, but it wasn't awkward. It was comfortable. It was _peaceful_.

It only took one subway train to get to my neighborhood, and a surprisingly short walk. I was actually disappointed when I saw that we were drawing towards my apartment building, it was nice walking with Lucas.

I expected him to leave me at the door, but he followed me through without a word. He followed up the stairwell, down the hall and stopped only when I paused in front of my apartment.

I turned to face him again, and I was startled to find him standing much closer than I had expected, still keeping a friendly distance, but much closer than he had been the entire way home.

"T-thanks." I stuttered out when I finally regained my senses. "Thanks, you know, for everything."

He smiled, a smile that was slowly driving me more and more crazy.

I chewed my lip, suddenly worried. "Lucas…You can't tell anyone about _any_ of this."

"I promise." He told me, but that wasn't good enough.

"I've had too many promises broken. I need you to swear that you won't breath a word of this to a single soul."

"I swear on my life that your secret is safe with me. You can trust me, Amy." He reached his hand out for a shake, but it was my turn to surprise him, by launching myself into his arms for a hug. He hesitated for a beat, then wrapped his arms around me, returning the embrace. I was content to stay like that for several minutes. It was almost a foreign experience for me, to be the one receiving comfort rather than giving it. I could get used to this. Eventually the moment had to end.

"Thanks." I told him, for what felt like the millionth time, as we broke apart. I chanced a look into his eyes, eyes I could easily get lost in. Eyes the same magnificent shade of green as the fields we used to picnic in around Grandpa Tom's place.

"Anytime." He said, smiling. His voice knocked me out of my daydreams.

"Well, I should probably should be heading back home." He mumbled quietly after a minute of awkwardly standing there. I thought I heard a hint of disappointment in his voice. Or maybe I was being delusional. Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Please be careful." I warned him. After all walking home alone at 3 in the morning from Queens wasn't the greatest idea of all time.

"Don't worry, Amy. I'll be fine. Goodnight."

"'Night." I called to him, as he retreated down the hall.

Slipping into the apartment my mind was buzzing. Not in the usual over-cluttered. But more of a happy kind of buzzing.

After checking to make the little monsters were still asleep, I showered and dropped into my bed, hoping to get to sleep before the happy thoughts inevitably gave way to my usual stress.

I drifted off with a smile on my face, the traumatizing memories from earlier that evening didn't feel quite so raw, or even real for that matter.

But that would change in the morning. The Game was about to become very, very real.

But for now, I slept peacefully.


	8. Chapter 8

Amy's POV

I didn't go to school the next day. I figured I deserved some time off, some time to sit back and reflect on my situation. Some time to figure out what the Hell I'm gonna do next.

I walked the kids to their school and made the journey back to the apartment, all while letting my mind wander. During these daydreams I figured out that there were countless new worries to make my nights sleepless.

This 'Game' is definitely filled with risks that put me and my entire family in danger, and now…Lucas. Because he's involved. Because I was stupid and selfish, and I told him everything. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, now I could see my mistake.

He could spill all my secrets, or worse go to the police…And probably get himself killed in the process.

I hoped he was smart enough to avoid me from now on. And I sincerely hoped I was crafty enough to live through the Godforsaken mess I'd gotten myself into.

I managed to distract myself for most the morning by cleaning the apartment. By the time I had brought the kids home I had to be careful not to let them see how preoccupied I was, lest they see an opportunity and decide to jump me.

I left Lily and Colin to their homework while I took a load of laundry down to the basement. It was while I was throwing the colors into the washer that Benny joined me in the laundry room.

"Fancy seeing you here." he joked. I just rolled my eyes.

"There's a friend waiting for you up at the apartment." He said, matter-of-factly. I scoffed, used to Benny's running joke about my lack of social life.

"Yeah? And who is it this time?"

Benny shrugged, "I don't recognize him, some preppy bastard. Probably from your new school."

I shook my head. "Very funny. How's your grandma? I heard she had an appointment today."

Benny shuddered, "Those poor doctors are scared shitless of her."

"Can't blame 'em. She can be intense."

"That's one word to use."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. We stood without saying anything for several minutes, the only sound was the rumbling of the machines.

Finally, Benny turned to me with a smirk. "So you gonna go up and meet with your date?"

I rolled my eyes and punched his arm. "You're a jerk." I gathered up my empty basket and left him alone to his laundry. I walked the four floors up to my apartment, and dropped what I was holding in surprise.

Lucas was standing at my apartment door. Inexplicably, the first thing to run through my mind was the fact that Benny described Lucas as a 'Preppy bastard.'

I couldn't help but laugh at the realization. The sound alerted Lucas to my presence, and he gave me a wide grin when he saw me.

"Amy…Hey." Despite all my worries about him, I couldn't help but return his smile.

"Hi, Lucas. Don't take this the wrong way or anything but…what are you doing here?"

"Oh…right. Well, uh, you weren't in school, and I came over to check on you. To make sure you were okay, considering…everything."

"Right. Considering…everything."

We stood there in awkward silence, neither of us quite sure where the line was at this point. Before the awkward could become suffocating the apartment door flew open and Colin appeared in the doorway. "Amy, can you please tell Lily that it's my turn to pick a movie-" He stopped abruptly, eyeing Lucas with nothing short of upright suspicion.

"Who're you?"

"This is Lucas." I told my brother quickly, glad to have a distraction from the original conversation. "He's a friend from school." I watched as Colin sized Lucas up, and then, very formally, extended a hand to the teen.

"I'm Colin, Amy's brother." Colin grinned when Lucas shook his hand, then he turned and high-tailed it back into the apartment, probably to tell Lily it was his turn to pick the movie.

"Sorry about that. He's a dork." I apologized and retrieved the empty laundry baskets still littering the floor.

"Well come on." I told him when I walked into the apartment and he hesitated at the doorjam.

A small part of my brain was worried about what he might think of the small space my family called home. Sure I'd spent all morning cleaning but there was only so much I could do. Everything we owned was mis-matched and hand-me-down, as well as riddled with generations' worth of stains. Including the large rust colored stain on the carpet that probably looked like blood but was actually strawberry jelly.

However, when I chanced a quick glance at Lucas I noticed he wasn't looking at the decrepit furniture or the suspicious rug stain, he was looking at a painting Lily had done in school that day that I had pinned up on the wall. It was the type of painting you expect from an eight-year old girl with an over-active imagination. All bright colors and indefinite shapes, but she had been so excited about it that I couldn't help but put it up.

"This your work?" He joked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yes. Can't you tell that I'm the next Picasso. Or maybe Monet."

"I was going to say Da Vinci."

"Nope. Still got both ears."

He laughed. I was glad that we'd left the awkwardness out in the hall.

"So you're holding up, then? I mean it can't be that bad if you're still faithfully sarcastic."

"Trust me, I can be faithfully sarcastic in any situation. I have zero impulse control."

We stood in companionable silence for a minute. "So have the kidnappers, you know…been in contact with you?" He asked, somewhat hesitantly. I resisted the urge to sigh. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. Of course he wasn't just going to pretend like I hadn't confessed my life story to him.

"Nope, I haven't gotten anything yet-"

Of course, just because fate is a bitch, at that very moment an annoying, incessant beeping sounded from the kitchen.

"I think someone's texting you." Lucas said when I continued to stare into the kitchen, mystified. I shook my head. "I don't have a phone."

However, I did have an idea. I followed the sound and traced it to the drawer where we kept all the emergency cells. I pulled the one out with the flashing screen and opened the new message. The contents were underwhelming.

 **James K. Bellinski 492668**

Instantly I responded with a classic, **Who is this?**

Rather than a reply, a photo beeped in. A photo of me dropping off the kids at school that morning. I scowled.

"In speak of the Devil." I told Lucas, who had been reading the text over my shoulder. He frowned at the message.

"Do you know that guy?" He asked. "James K. Bellinski?"

I shook my head again. "Never heard of him before in my life." Re-reading the text I became more confused. "492668? What does that mean?" I turned to Lucas, he looked just as lost.

"Beats me. It's not enough digits for a phone number, or a social security number, and it's too many numbers for an address."

Before I could say anything, Colin and Lily came barreling in, shouting and running around. Lily jumped on him and Colin collapsed to the ground, both of them laughing hysterically.

"What are you doing?" I called over the noise.

"We're playing Cops & Robbers." Lily smiled proudly from where she still had Colin pinned to the ground.

I smiled, at least they still acted like kids. "Why don't you go play that with your toys." They looked disappointed, but they went off to do it anyway.

I turned back to Lucas to find him staring at the wall in deep thought.

"How many numbers was it again?" He asked, never taking his eyes off the wall.

"Six."

He hesitated, before finally looking at me. "This is a long shot, but that is the same amount of numbers as a prisoner ID."

"So…What? We just go to every prison in Long Island and ask if James Bellinski is prisoner 492668?"

Lucas shook his head. "I have a better idea." I watched as he scrolled through his phone for a few minutes without explanation.

"Care to enlighten me, Mr. Holmes?" I asked, running out of patience. Lucas smiled. "It's not quite elementary, my dear Watson."

/

I left Colin in charge, telling him I'd be back in a few hours. And together Lucas and I made our way back to his apartment building.

Walking into the apartment I noticed that it seemed empty, just as it had last night. "Where are your parents?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Out." Was his only response.

"Oh. Out where?" He just shrugged. I didn't push it. Something told me it wasn't a matter he liked to discuss.

"Anyway, you still haven't told me what this genius idea of yours is."

"Oh. Right. Follow me."

I followed Lucas down a hallway and into the last room on the left. Inside was an office. Simple. Quaint. Bookshelves lined the walls and a threadbare carpet lay underfoot. A darkwood desk and a swivel chair sat in the center of the room, with its back to the one large window. A sleek computer and a few framed photos were the desktop's only occupants.

I scrutinized the arrangement. The computer was asleep, not off, a sign of regular use. And all of the deskdrawers were locked.

"So what exactly are we doing here?" I asked, still not understanding.

Lucas came to stand next to me. "You remember me telling you that my dad worked for the police?" I nodded. "Well, he has access to a database of known offenders."

I shrugged. "Can't you find people's police records online anyway?"

"Yeah, but that's not always accurate. Plus this way we can find out more, like last known address, living relatives, the whole deal."

I watched, intrigued as Lucas logged onto the computer and pulled up a window.

The background waswhite, decorated with the insignia of a police shield, **NEW YORK STATE DATABASE OF CRIMINAL OFFENDERS** was written across the screen in bold letters, underneath that was a simple space for an identification number and a password.

When Lucas made no move to log in, I motioned impatiently towards the keyboard. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Here's the one issue…" He rubbed the back of his neck, and I groaned when I came to a realization.

"Oh my God, you don't know the log-in do you?"

"...No. I don't." I groaned again. "I figured between you and I we could figure it out." Was his only response.

I sighed, but I knew we had no other choice. This was the easiest way to find James Bellinski. I mean, as long as that was, in fact, a prison number in that text.

I started blankly at the screen, willing it to give me the answers I needed. Luck was on my side.

"Hey, Lucas?" He looked at me questioningly. "Isn't the identification number just to prove you're a cop?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah, the website keeps a track of who logs in and out."

"And you would find an ID number on an officer's badge?" I said, pointing towards the badge decorating the website's backdrop.

"Yeah…But my dad doesn't just leave his badge lying around. And I don't know the number."

"We don't need the badge, we have the next best thing." An idea flashed through my mind in an instant, and I snatched up one of the photos idling on the desk. It was a picture of Lucas' dad, in uniform, shaking hands with a man in suit. I handed the picture to Lucas, smiling triumphantly. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Do you really expect to get the badge number off this picture? I can barely see it, let alone read it." He had a point. The picture was slightly fuzzy and not the best quality, but that was to be expected seeing as how the picture was from a-

"Newspaper." Was all I said, taking the photo back.

"What?"

"The picture's from a newspaper." I explained, carefully opening the frame so I could take the picture out. "I don't know about you, but if I were to save a picture from a newspaper I'd also save the story." Smiling, I pulled the clipping out and unfolded it. Sure enough, it was a small news article.

When Lucas continued to look slightly lost I pressed on. "If we can find this story online we can enhance the image and read the badge number!"

I watched the idea process. Finally he gave me a grin.

"If this works." He told me, opening up Google. "Then, you're a genius."

We scoured the internet for ten minutes with no luck. I was just starting to lose hope when we finally found the right story. Grinning like idiots, we zoomed in on the badge and brought it into focus. It was still fuzzy and difficult to read, but after another painstaking five minutes we managed to record the 5 digit ID number.

However when we switched back to the database our excitement leaked through the floorboards.

"Damn." I muttered. "We still don't have the password."

"My dad has the memory of a goldfish, so I'm sure he wrote the password down. All we have to do is find it."

I nodded.

Thank God the office was practically Spartan. I went to search the bookcases while Lucas searched through the computer. I was in the middle of shaking out a copy of **Webster's World Dictionary** when Lucas called me over, brandishing a post-it note.

"Where'd you find it?" I asked, rushing over as Lucas typed in the complicated series of numbers and letters. He laughed, "It was taped under the keyboard."

"Not exactly mastermind." I chuckled. But I thanked the Heavens for the lack-luster hiding place.

Lucas searched the number from the text message. Two results came up. I was ecstatic to see that one of the results was James K. Bellinski. I was too hyped to pay too much attention to the other name.

I looked to Lucas, expecting him to be just as excited as I was, instead he looked confused, frowning, with his eyebrows drawn together. I thought the expression was adorable, but I buried those thoughts for now. I had other things to worry about than my growing attraction to this guy.

"What's wrong? You were right, generally people are happy when they're right." He shook his head.

"It's just weird. ID numbers are supposed to be unique, I've never heard of two people sharing one."

I shrugged, not really bothered by the irregularity.

"Let's look at the rap-sheet." I suggested, reaching around Lucas to open up Bellinski's file. The right side of the screen was comprised of a list of felonies while the left side consisted of two mug shots. The second I saw Bellinski's face my eyes widened and my entire body went rigid. Even Lucas let out a low whistle.

It was a face I knew. A face I saw every morning and every evening. It was the face of one of the few people in the world that I loved and trusted wholeheartedly. I recognized the blue eyes and the spattering of freckles across the bridge of the man's nose, as well as the mop of dark hair. The man was the spitting image of Colin. At least if Colin was about twenty years older.

James K. Bellinski was Colin's father. _My_ father. I was sure of it, even if my only evidence was a mug shot.

This man was _my estranged father._ And he was a convicted felon. Of course. Nothing else would so perfectly fit the effed up puppet show that was my life.

I laughed, a bitter sound. Lucas gave me a look.

"Are you okay, Amy? I know this must be-"

"I'm fine." It came out much rougher than I had intended it to, but I meant it. I was fine. I had to be. I couldn't afford to let my emotions get the better of me, not when there was so much at stake.

"I'm fine." I repeated, when Lucas continued to look at me doubtfully. I stepped away from the desk and paced the office, I find it's easier to think when Lucas and I aren't standing so close together. "Just read the file. Please." I asked him, when I felt him watch me as I paced. After a minute he complied.

"Bellinski was arrested the first time for aggravated assault and attempted murder, and links to organized crime. Later on, he was taken in for carrying a concealed weapon, carrying without a license, and battery. He was arrested for the third and final time on grand theft auto and possession. He broke out of jail during his third prison sentence…Fifteen years ago…" I motioned for him to continue. "That's it. Bellinski broke out and nothing happened since…Oh."

"What's wrong?" I asked, even going so far as to stop pacing.

Lucas chewed his lip and slowly met my eyes. "He's dead, Amy." He said softly.

"What?" I maneuvered myself back over to him so I could read the screen.

"Found dead two months ago in an condemned apartment. Single gunshot wound to the right temple, suspected suicide." He summarized off the death note at the end of Bellinski's file.

"Where's the apartment?"

"69th Avenue in Queens. Why?"

"That's not too far from my building. Come on."

"What? No. We are not going to that apartment." He spoke firmly but he was following me out of the office regardless.

"Oh, yes we are."

"Why?"

"'Cause James Bellinski didn't kill himself."

/

We were ridding the F subway line on our way to Jamaica, which was just South of Queens, 10 minutes later.

"Okay, so run everything by me one more time." Lucas whispered, anxious about the strangeness of our conversation and the amount of people in ear shot.

I sighed. "You said Bellinski had links to organized crime, yeah?"

Hesitant head nod from Lucas.

"So I got to thinking about what the kidnappers had said last night. What they had said about my dad…Bellinski…They said he had turned on them. So my guess is, they were from the gang Bellinski had belonged to. But you said after he busted out of prison he cleaned up, or at least he didn't get arrested again, well not in New York anyway."  
Nod number two.

"Well what if he busted out of prison _**and**_ the gang, and they were finally catching up with him. They go to where he's hiding out, and they kill him, classically covering it up as a suicide. Or maybe even Bellinski did kill himself but only to avoid being punished by the gang when they inevitably found him. Which would make the crime man-slaughter. But there's one thing I just can't figure out, why did he stay in New York? I mean after getting out of all of that, why wouldn't he book? It'd be safer. He'd probably still be alive."

"He stayed for you guys." Lucas answered quickly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?"

"You know, his family more or less. Your mom and you and Lily and Colin. He stayed for you guys."

I shook my head, not even mulling over the possibility, that just couldn't be it. "I never once saw the guy. Mom never mentioned him. Whatever reason he was staying in the city, it wasn't us."

"Just because you didn't see him, doesn't mean he wasn't around." Lucas seemed content enough to drop the subject when I remained silent.

/

The bus dropped us off at the intersection of 69th Avenue and Fresh meadow lane. From there we headed West down 69th and walked in silence for about five minutes. I scanned the relatively still residential street while Lucas consulted a map he had printed out of the area.

"Here." He said, stopping so abruptly I nearly walked into him. I looked up at the building. Yup, definitely condemned all right.

It was two stories of dull colored brick, covered in layers of graffiti. Several windows were smashed, and the ones intact were too grimy to see through. The door was padlocked shut with a sign reading **CONDEMNED** taped to the peeling wood.

"Homey." I mumbled. "How long had this place been shut down when they found Bellinski?" Lucas shrugged.

We stood on the sidewalk staring at the decrepit face of the building. It was intimidating at first glance, the kind of place you expected gang violence to occur, but under closer inspection the whole place was just kinda sad. If someone had taken better care of it, this building could be a home to some people, a place where they felt safe and secure, where their families waited with open arms.

Instead James Bellinski had died in there, alone, probably paranoid beyond belief, jumping at every noise and shadow, waiting to be found…to be put down.

I frowned. I may not know this man…my father…and deep down I know I still house some resentment for him never being around… But still, no one deserves to die like that.

"Come on." I told Lucas, shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I needed to be focused for this.

I led him down the alley between this building and the building immediately on the right, the alley ended in a small square of courtyard. The only thing besides concrete and spray paint was a dumpster pushed up against the abandoned building's back wall, right underneath a rusted fire escape.

I didn't waste anytime. I crawled onto the dumpster and just managed to reach the ladder for the fire escape if I stood on my toes. Hauling myself up onto the creaking platform I looked at Lucas, who hadn't moved from where I'd left him.

"You coming or what?"

"That doesn't look safe. At all."

I tested my foot against the metal. It creaked in reply. I looked at Lucas and shrugged. "At least the fall's not that bad. Just try not to land on your head."

I ignored his grumbling as he made his way up and instead, I busied myself with trying to pry open the single window on level with the fire escape. It took the combined efforts of both Lucas and I (When he finally joined me), to open the it.

Darkness reigned within. The fading afternoon sunlight only penetrated a small portion of the room beyond the window sill, and suddenly I wasn't so sure about this anymore.

I slowly turned my head and met Lucas' gaze. He didn't look so confident either.

"This feels like the point of no return." He joked, unsuccessfully trying to mask his uneasiness.

I nodded. "It is." I took in a deep breath to steel my nerves. "C'mon Caesar. Time to cross the Rubicon."

I counted to three in my head and climbed through into the former crime scene.

/

Lucas and I stumbled around in the dark for a good five minutes, occasionally bumping into furniture and each other. I had just stubbed my toe on something and sworn loudly for the fourth time when I felt Lucas' hand on the pocket of my sweat shirt.

"Geez, at least buy me dinner first." I joked. I couldn't see him, but I was sure he was rolling his eyes.

"Your phone." He said, turning it on so the screen's light pierced the was weak and I could still barely see anything but it was better than nothing. "I dropped mine by the window, but we can use your phone as a flashlight."

"Oh, right." I had totally forgotten that I still had the phone with the text. I wasn't used to carrying it around.

And that's what we did. After retrieving Lucas' phone, we split up and searched the apartment.

There was really nothing of interest. The furniture was sparse and basic. Nothing more than the most primitive of home comforts. And everything was covered in several inches of dust. Even our foot prints were muffled on the wooden floor.

"You're sure this is the right place?" I asked for the dozenth time.

"Yes. I am. This is the right address and this is the only apartment in this building." I could start to hear the traces of irritation in his voice but I found it hard to care. The adrenaline from earlier was starting to wear off and I found myself both exhausted and worried about how long I'd left Lily and Colin alone at the apartment.

I was just about to suggest that we call it a night when I suddenly remembered the feeling of being jumped last night. How afraid I'd been. How mad. How helpless. I had agreed to do what they said, and I was going to keep my word. Especially since it was the only way to keep the people I love safe. So I shook my head, gritted my teeth and went back to searching, for what, I wasn't sure.

"So I was thinking about Bellinski's rap sheet on the way here and something's been bugging me." I told Lucas from across the room, mostly to distract myself from my thoughts.

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"The evolution." I said, stopping to organize my thoughts. "It's just weird. I mean he starts out as an attempted murder with gang ties and then morphs into, what? A joyriding junkie? It doesn't make sense. Crime evolves, it gets worse, even when criminals began to devolve their crimes just get sloppier, they don't get less violent. I don't get it. And this apartment-" I continued, letting my thoughts out as they came. "I mean, look at this dust! It doesn't look like anyone's been here in two years let alone two months ago. It's just all so…off."

I continued to contemplate everything until Lucas' voice interrupted my inner detectiving.

"Hey, Amy, come look at this." He sounded excited. I followed his voice towards the back left corner of the room. He was shining his phone at an outline of a square on the wall, behind the wallpaper.

I just stared at it. "What's so special about a cupboard they papered over?"

"Well," Lucas brandished a pocket knife, "It's what's inside the cupboard that would really be special, now wouldn't it?" I rolled my eyes, I mean sure it was an idea but it wasn't worth getting worked up over. Chances were the cupboard was empty anyways.

Lucas cut away the wall paper and I used a hair pin to pick the lock. Slowly opening the cupboard I was surprised to find two things tucked away into the back of the small space.

I reached inside and gingerly pulled out a bundle of cloth, which turned out to be a T-shirt. It was heavier than what a T-shirt should be. I slowly unwrapped the bundle, and I was shocked when I saw the barrel of a gun.

I quickly pulled the slide back and examined the chamber. Empty. I sighed, what a relief. At least there was no danger of one of us accidentally shooting each other. I handed the bundle over to Lucas who held it just as gingerly as I had. I've never liked guns.

I reached into the cupboard for the second item, a manila envelope. I pulled the envelope out and was just about to open it when Lucas interrupted me.

"Son of a bitch." He whispered. Unused to hearing profanity from him I looked up immediately, startled.

Lucas was staring wide eyed at something in his hand, it resembled a check book. He finally met my gaze and I couldn't quite make out his expression.

"I guess this explains a lot." He said, smiling. I drew my eyebrows together and frowned in confusion, that is until Lucas turned the check book around, I shined my phone at it to reveal that it was actually a badge, a federal agent badge. An FBI badge! James Bellinski's face stared up from the small lamented paper, and the name next to the picture was, in fact, not James K. Bellinski but Greg Masters.

"Holy shit." I breathed all the pieces clicking to place. "Bellinski was a fed!"


	9. Chapter 9

?'s POV

"She made it to the apartment." My companion said unnecessarily from the passenger seat. I didn't bother dignifying his idiocy with a response.

"She obviously needed help though." My moron of a stake out partner noted. I rolled my eyes.

"No," I drawled. "The boy's just following her into an abandoned apartment building for sick kicks."

We waited and watched as the two teens made their way around the side of the decrepit building.

"So this is where Bellinski-or Masters- Or whatever the hell his name was-this is where he hid out all that time." I chuckled darkly, "He was right under our noses. Sneaky Bastard."

"Do you think it's a good idea, involving his kid? She could end up being just like him, it could derail everything." The idiot shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

". That's what we're hoping for. Bellinski was good. He just wasn't loyal to us. She's young. She's sheltered believe it or not. She'll listen to us, she's seen what we're capable of."

"What you're capable of." He corrected softly. I bristled.

"I had orders to kill him." I hissed, recalling the night of the kidnapping, "I just needed him for one more job."

"You couldn't have let him finish that job?" The retort was just as soft as the first, but shakier. It struck me suddenly that those two had grown up like brothers, I had trained them myself. They were both idiots.

"He did finish the job." I kept my voice as neutral as possible, hoping he'd pick up on the unspoken apology.

He didn't.

"We could've buried him. We didn't have to dump him at sea like some traitor."

"He got what he deserved."

"He did not get what he deserved!" The man slammed his fist into the passenger side window, with enough force to crack the glass. I didn't bat an eye.

"He worked for this damned _'organization'_ since he was eighteen, and he never once questioned an order. And you'll say it's because he was too dense to think for himself, but in reality it's because he actually thought he had a family for the first time in his life! And what does that family do!? They shoot him in the head and dump him in the harbor!"

"Calm your emotions," I growled. "And you'll avoid the same fate."

"That's what you do isn't it?" he sneered. "You just off anyone who acts like an effing _human being_."

"You weren't complaining about our execution policy when we _offed_ your abusive father."

"You're a bitch you know that." He muttered after several minutes of tense silence.

I smirked. "That's why they give me the gun."

He threw another punch at the window, half-hearted compared to his first.

I smiled, this part of the job was always fun.

We waited for the little…urchins…to come back out of the building, hopefully with the information I knew was hidden in the traitor's apartment.

I idly observed that we were in a pretty descent spot for a stake-out, hidden far enough into the alley to not be spotted from the street but still have a view of that damned apartment building.

"Movement in the second floor right window." The man grumbled. I straightened in my seat and narrowed my eyes at the window he had indicated. Sure enough, through the grime I could make out figures moving about in the traitor's hide-out.

"Good, they can sneak into an abandoned, unsecured building." I kept my voice unimpressed. But inside I was glad. She showed promise. The spies at the fight club said she was a fierce fighter, and the spies at the school and around her neighborhood said she had no friends, no one she'd confide in.

Suddenly I frowned, Then who was the boy? She was obviously close enough with him to let him tag along, was he from her old school? I thought we'd had all of her old friends taken care of. I scowled. I hated cleaning other people's messes.

"Who is the boy anyway?" I growled, my frustration growing at the unforeseen additional player to the game.

"How should I know?" My companion spat out in a growl similar to my own.

Decision made.

I stepped out of the van, drawing my jacket tighter around myself to defend against the nighttime chill.

"It's officially your job to find out." I told the passenger as I slammed my door.

I didn't bother looking back as I made my way across the street. I barely even spared a glance for the old run down excuse of a home those two _children_ were searching through.

I had more important matters to be dealing with than surveying those kids. Sure the girl showed potential, but that doesn't mean she'll end up being useful, which is why we were putting her 'through the wringer' as my idiot partner had described it. We had to test her nerve, her intelligence, and her willingness to sacrifice. So far she was doing well, she had found the apartment at least.

But my business was with someone else at the moment.

/

It was a short walk to the outer edge of Queens where the brat lived with her siblings and occasionally her mother. By the looks of the beat up station wagon parked out front, the mom was here. Perfect.

I allowed myself a thin lipped smile, I bet she would be surprised to see me.

No one bothered me as I climbed the three floors up to the Stevens' apartment. And by the time I had knocked on the family's door my smile was full, but not exactly sincere.

"Amaryllis you've got some explaining-" Caroline Stevens opened the door, primed to reprimand her daughter, but stopped dead and turned a deathly pale when she saw me.

"Caroline!" I called cheerfully, embracing her like a long lost sister, she tensed at my touch, she knew my physical interactions with people tended not to be…affectionate.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in a hushed strangled voice. I watched as her other two ankle biters watched our exchange with wide and confused eyes.

"Where's Amy?" The littlest red-headed girl asked, her voice wavering. I watched as her brother put an arm around her in comfort. My smile fell when I saw the boy. He was a carbon copy of the traitor.

His eyes caught mine and I saw an emotion I didn't recognize flit across his features. It was gone in an instant, and instead he looked at me without interest, as though a stranger appeared at their apartment door everyday.

I was strongly reminded of his older sister, and her seemingly fearless attitude in the van last night.

"What are you doing here?" Caroline repeated roughly grabbing my bicep as I had done to her daughter not twenty-four hours ago. I stayed silent, and Caroline told her kids to leave us alone for a few minutes.

When we were finally alone I dropped my cheerful demeanor. "It's been a while since we've seen each other _Caroline_." I hissed her name in contempt and yanked my arm out of the smaller woman's grip.

She remained by the door and watched me fearfully as I scrutinized her living space.

"Its small." I snorted, nudging a discarded toy with my shoe.

"We can't all be in Mr. High-And-Mighty's pocket." She whispered, her quiet defiance wasn't lost on me.

"I'm in nobody's pocket." I growled, glaring at the woman, who returned my look unflinchingly. A small part of me couldn't help but admire her. She had more balls than all the men I've ever been forced to work with.

"You should know that better than anybody." I continued, "You were my partner for a long time after all."

"That was a long time ago, Kat." She whispered, anger clouding her usually kind eyes. "I'm not that person anymore."

"Oh don't act so rehabilitated." I waved my hand to cut off her heated reply. "I know the story, you don't have the nerve to do what you used to, but you're still one of us. You just run softer jobs than you used to is all."

"I didn't have a choice." Caroline spat, coming right up to me and shoving me roughly. I kept my face blank and recovered my balance quickly. "If I did have a choice, I would've gotten out of it entirely."

"Of course you didn't have a choice. You were too close to your beloved Bellinski. Your dear traitor. We had to keep an eye on you after he was exposed. How were we supposed to know whether or not you were helping him to bring us down?"

"Maybe I should've helped him!" She exclaimed loudly. I sucked in a breath, my stony mask wavering for a split second.

"You don't mean that." I whispered, my voice shaking the slightest bit. Caroline scowled, it was an unnerving expression on her face.

"I do mean it. What have you and the rest of the organization ever done for me?"

"We gave you a family when you had none, when you were alone, thinking you could handle the big city all by yourself. Do you remember that?"

"Now I do have a family." I've never seen my former partner look so unhinged, not even when she got the news of her former lover's death two months ago had see appeared so…furious. "And you and the rest of those assholes are tearing my family apart." I saw angry tears brimming her eyes. "And now you're trying to recruit my daughter." She whispered the last part so quietly I had to strain to hear her. Her small body was shaking with barely suppressed anger and sadness.

"How did you know about that?" I was under strict orders that Caroline wasn't supposed to know anything about our plans for Amaryllis.

She made a derisive noise in her throat. "I still have friends in the organization, they thought I should know that you're planning on training my daughter to take my old place…next to you."

"Who told you that?" I kept my voice just as quiet as hers but my anger was bubbling. Spies were spilling secrets to unauthorized personnel in the organization, I couldn't allow that to continue.

Again that sound. "I'm not telling. I'm no snitch, Kat. I know perfectly well what would happen to those people and I'm not letting that happen because of me."

I growled low in my throat but I knew it would make no difference. Caroline was never really afraid of me, which made her the best partner I've ever worked with. It also made her the most dangerous. And I had an exceedingly strong urge to end it all right there. Put a bullet in her skull and stop any opposition when it came to testing Amaryllis.

But the small part of me that could still feel anything stopped me. Caroline was the closest thing to a friend I've ever had, I couldn't kill her. I just couldn't, and that worried me.

"She's just a child, Kat." Caroline pleaded, seeing the conflict in my eyes but guessing its source wrong.

"So were you." I whispered. I watched as the anger drained from her posture, leaving her looking defeated and broken.

"The things I did…" tears started slowly spilling down her pale cheeks, "They haunt me. They've destroyed some parts of me. I won't let you put her through that."

"I'm sorry." I told the distraught woman. I wished I could mean it. "But, you can't protect her anymore." I brushed past her and headed for the door.

"Are you putting her through the test?" I could hear the tears in her voice. I turned to face her, but she remained resolutely turned away from me.

"Yes."

I watched as she seemed to shrink in on herself even more. "Lord, save her soul." I heard her whisper. And for the first time I noticed the Crucifix hanging above the large window. I didn't tell Caroline that even He couldn't help her now. I decided to let her keep her last false hope for her daughter.

"She knows about her father." I figured I could disclose that much.

A deep calming breath from Caroline. "How much about her father?" She asked. I shrugged though she couldn't see me.

"I don't know myself."

We stood still in tense, unbroken silence for several minutes. Finally, I decided that I caused my former companion enough pain. I silently made my way out of the apartment, just as I was about to close the door I saw Caroline bury her face in her hands and drop to her knees with a gut wrenching sob. I remained glued to the spot, door still slightly ajar and watched as her two youngest kids came shyly out of their rooms and quietly comforted their mother. I sighed and closed the door, leaving the grieving family some privacy.

 **AN: I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long, but I had to get my story ideas together before I posted this, because it was a very important chapter plot-wise. Also, I made a mistake in the first chapter. This chapter actually takes place a few YEARS after New Years Eve. Think freshmen-ish time line. Thank you so much for all your patience, my readers really are the best. May the odds be ever in your favor.**

 **-Mockingjay**


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